PHILO: 


AN    EVANGELIAD 


AUTHOR  OF  '  MARGARET  ;  A  TALE  OF  THE  REAL  AND  IDEAL.' 


BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON,    AND    COMPANY. 
1850. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849,  by 

SYLVESTER   JUDD,    JR., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of 
Massachusetts. 


STEREOTYPED    AT    THE 
HOSTON    TVI'E    AND    STEREOTYPE    FOIINDTIY. 


H  I  L  0: 


AN    EVANGELIAD 


SCENE  —  A  Village. 

Philo.     WHERE  are  you  going,  Charles  ?     Come, 
walk  with  me. 

Charles.     Of   latest    style    of   prints,    my   wife 

bade  me 
Get  samples. 

Philo.  I  am  looking  for  a  stranger  ; 

A  secret  intimation  draws  me  out  ; 
It  is  no  steamboat  traveller,  I  ween, 
But  from  the  moon,  or  otherwheres.     Who  turned 
The  corner  just  now  ?     Let  us  search  the  streets. 


M70553 


4  PHILO: 

Charles.     You   are   no   dotard,  Philo,  yet  me- 

thinks 

Your  words  the  dotard  play.     Why  pant,  as  you 
Were  standing  mast-head  in  a  burning  sun, 
Watching  for  whales  ?     Keep  to  what's  palpable  ; 
Lc.t  avysteries  alouo, 

Philo.  Therefrom  may  rise 

Our  hope. 

diaries.     Why  this  to  me  ?     I  have  no  hope. 

Philo.     That  you  may  have.      The  sky  hath  a 

rare  glow, 

And  summer-showers  its  beauty  on  the  world : 
Might  it  not  ray  intelligence  to  us, 
Or  one  of  its  inhabitants  send  forth 
To  visit  ? 

Charles.     Woe  is  me !     In  her  de  laine 
To  see  an  angel,  my  dear  wife  would  swoon. 
The  mystery  of  merchants'  packages 
She  Ion urs  to  handle.     You  are  too  well  bred 

D 

Philo,  to  disappoint  a  woman's  wish. 
Good-by;  be  pleasure  yours,  and  folly  too, 
If  such  it  is  ;  and  mine  —  to  do  my  errand. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  5 

Philo.      Beneath  the  trees  he  stands,  —  it  must 

be  he,  — 

Fast  by  the  church.     What  there  attracts  his  eye  ? 
No  antique  saints,  or  welkin-aping  dome. 
An  open  belfry,  and  four  heavy  walls, 
Are  the  sum  total.     Let  me  speak  to  him. 
Hail !  sky-descended,  —  such  thy  look  imports,  — 
A  mortal  welcomes  thee,  as  mortal  may. 

Gabriel  Unto  a  certain  Philo  I  was  sent, 
Who  has  his  lodgings  hereabouts.  My  name 
Is  Gabriel. 

Philo.       And  I  am  Philo  called. 
In  vision  of  the  night  I  heard  of  thee, 
And  was  constrained  to  look  for  thee.     The  times, 
Indeed,  do  hardly  promise  such  a  good  ; 
Yet  this,  the  steadfast  compass  of  my  faith, 
That  Israel  will  be  redeemed,  the  Fall 
Reversed.     In  words  familiar,  yet 
Sincerely  put,  I  hope  I  see  thee  well. 

Gabriel.     The    upper   blue,    through   which   I 

fared,  was  cold 

And  moist.     Secured  in  our  peculiar  vest, 
1* 


0  THILO: 

1  sailed  it  heedless.     Yonder  sky  appears 
As  years  agone,  when  we  prepared  the  bed 
Of  this  great  globe  ;  not  great  indeed  to  one, 
A  traveller  through  the  starry  ways,  and  who 
Has  seen  the  central  orb  of  all,  and  spent 

A  century  exploring  base  of  His 
Appropriate  seat ;  that  dazzling,  central  vast, 
Which  mocks  your  science,  and  confounds  survey; 
God's  own,  and  overviewed  by  God  alone. 
How  excellent  the  alchemy  that  turns 
The  turbid  mist  and  cold  vacuity 
To  azure  day,  and  golden  purfled  eve ! 
Such  was  my  revcry  as  you  approached. 
I  came  last  night  near  the  first  cock-crowing  ; 
Traversed  the  streets ;  none  were  abroad,  no  lights 
From  windows  shone.     I  set  me  on  these  steps 
To  see  the  planets  rise,  and  galaxy, 
Whose  creamy  flood  my  swimmer-pinions  pierced. 
Philo.     How    gladly    we    had   been   thy   host, 

bestowed 

Our  hospitality,  like  those  of  old, 
With  all  the  ardor  of  a  modern  heart ! 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  7 

The  gospel  rule  will  have  us  entertain 
The  stranger  j  we  an  angel  too  had  found. 

Gabriel.     I  have   no   lack.     Love  is  my  food, 

my  bed, 

And  roof.     Love  is  my  wing,  my  impulse  love, 
And  soul  and  circumstance,  my  joy  and  prayer. 
In  love  I  dwell  in  God,  and  God  in  me. 
Not  otherwise  is  seen  the  great  Unseen ; 
And  the  high  host  of  us,  in  love,  all  dwell 
Together,  brother,  sister,  cherubim. 
Heaven,  stars,  time,  place,  and  their  inhabitants, 
Subsist  in  love  —  as  love  itself  in  God  — 
Wherethrough  these  maples  leaf,  and  those  thick 

clouds 

Their  lustre  draw.     In  love  are  visitors, 
Attendance,  ministry,  and  fellowship  • 
Sphere  answering  to  sphere,  and  heart  to  heart, 
Within  the  Soul  of  All,  concentrical ; 
To  seraph,  seraph  speaking,  musical 
And  glad ;  inaudible  to  sin  alone. 
Truly  I  nothing  crave,  but  that  you  love, 
And  mortals  all ;  whence  it  shall  come  to  pass, 


P  1 1 1 L  O  : 


That  our  effulgent  scope  shall  earth  comprise, 
And,  man  into  the  naming  circle  falling, 
This  human  state  reflect  the  heavenly.  — 
Is  this  a  church,  of  which  the  echoing  prate 
Has  reached  our  ears  ? 

Philo.  So  called.    Go  in  with  me. 

These  are  the  people's  seats,  named  pews ;  and  there 
The  pulpit,  our  good  pastor's  place ;  above, 
The  choir  collect :  hast  never  heard  their  songs  ? 
Our  minister  keeps  you  no  distant  suit ; 
He  wells  with  love,  and  yearns  for  the  Redemption  ; 
His  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.     His  name 
Hast  thou  not  seen  on  the  Lamb's  Book  ?     A  heart 
To  high  heroic  ecstasy  attuned, 
He  owns,  great  Virtue's  self  beholds,  and  turns 
To  the  same  image  ;  'midst  tempestuous  times 
Our  Eddystone ;  Christ's  passion  beareth  he, 

And  scorn  of  hypocrites.     We  follow  him, 

Our  lesser  shepherd,  as  he  Christ,  the  Great. 

Resolved  and  calm,  both  meek  and  wise  is  he  ; 

Of  spiritual  drift,  and  simple  human  ways  ; 

In  comprehension  large,  of  liberal  taste  ; 


ANEVANGELIAD.  9 

Loving  all  things,  and  gathering  truth  from  all ; 

Sharp-set  for  rectitude,  with  frailty  mild, 

Stubborn  to  sin  and  hate  alone.     And  thus 

In  pastures  green  a  grateful  flock  is  fed. 

Here  we  commune,  and  sing,  and  pray  ;  and  here 

Our  fleshly  tabernacle  glows  with  light 

Celestial. 

Gabriel     What  is  that  across  the  street  ? 

Philo.  A  church. 

Gabriel.     Those  spires  below  ? 

Philo.  Are  churches  too. 

Gabriel.     Twelve  candlesticks,  and  all  in  bright 

/  O 

array  ? 

Twelve  ministers  to  keep  the  altar  fires  ? 
What  quantities  of  love  !     How  thronged  the  way 
Of  Life  !     No  sin  with  nice  precision,  none 
With  ruffian  force,  shall  dare  attempt  the  place. 
Thrice  happy  he  who  dwells  within  these  walls. 
Philo.     Spare,  Gabriel,  spare  ;  both  me  and  all 

of  us. 

Too  palpable  thy  veil  doth  make  our  vice  ; 
Thy  thin  blade  lances  deeper  than  the  quick. 


10  PHILO: 

In  yonder  gorge,  that  opens  to  the  river, 

I  have  an  arbor,  coolly  framed  of  boughs 

And  vines  ;  there  solitude  does  teach  me  ;  there 

A  band  of  kindred  spirits  casual  meets : 

Let  us  go  thither  ;  at  thy  ease  discourse 

To  me  of  what  thou  wilt. 

Gabriel  Of  Christ  'fore  all. 

Philo.     The  preface  he  of  all  my  interest. 

Gabriel     When   this  earth's  comer   stone  was 

laid,  the  stars 

Together  sang,  and  all  we  sons  of  God 
Shouted  for  joy.     At  birth  of  him  raised  up 
To  be  a  Prince  and  Savior  of  the  world, 
I  led  the  choir,  the  burden  of  whose  song 
Was,  Peace  on  earth  !  Good  will  to  man  !   Beguiled, 
Depressed,  enjeoparded  by  flesh  and  sense, 
I  succored  him  ;  his  bitter  cup  of  death 
With  myrrh  and  honey  dashed  ;  held  to  my  heart 
His  throbbing  temples  :  wiped  the  laboring  blood, 
His  pain  and  terror  reassuring.     Then, 
As  steel  recoiling,  that  heroic  youth, 
In  conscious  strength  arising,  smiled,  and  turned 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  11 

Himself  to  Calvary  — new  Star  of  hope, 

Death's  dread  abyss  illuming  where  it  sank. 

To  Mary  I  announced  the  favored  birth ; 

Chosen  from  the  foundation  of  the  world, 

Elect  and  precious,  with  observance  strict, 

I  marked  his  course.     Truth,  love,  and  holiness, 

Possessed  he  not  by  measure.     He  waxed  strong 

In  spirit,  right  and  wrong  discerned,  and  fair 

And  foul.     God's  grace  investing  him,  he  grew 

In  favor  with  the  few  who  knew  him  best 

A  goodly  countenance  had  he,  the  fruit 

Of  inward  life  ;  not  a  June  morning's  blush, 

Or  tinctured  empyrean  loveliness, 

With  his  could  mate,  touched  by  immortal  virtue ; 

Fair  rose  of  God,  in  vulgar  Nazareth, 

Full  blown.     Equipped  for  his  peculiar  work, 

By  culture,  pureness,  and  humility, 

With  fortitude,  he  sank  beneath  the  world, 

The  world  and  all  humanities,  to  raise 

To  heights  Edenic  ;  Messianic  Atlas, 

Benign  subterrene  fire.     His  mission,  plan, 

Idea,  was  Unity  in  Trinity  ; 


12  PHILO: 

Atonement  of  himself,  and  man,  and  God  ; 

Accordance  of  all  earthly  interests ; 

To  smooth  the  face  of  inequality  ; 

And,  by  reflective,  mutual  furtherance, 

With  just  restraint,  the  progress  of  the  race, 

And  its  perfection,  ratify.     Christ  saw, 

And  did,  what  Orpheus  sung,  Isaiah  wrote  ; 

Carried  himself  with  majesty  proportioned, 

Elaborating  premises  and  ends,  — 

With  sound  philosophy  of  requisites, 

And  cunning  choice  of  agents,  points,  and  means  ; 

The  intellectual  vitality 

Of  kindreds,  continents,  times,  and  ages, 

To  the  roots  moisture,  flavor  to  the  fruit, 

To  branches  strength,  and  beauty  to  the  whole, 

He  was  by  nature,  and  by  force  of  will 

He  gave  ;  the  heart  of  total,  heavenly  growth, 

Beating  forevermore.     For  this  same  cause, 

Into  the  world  he  came,  that  the  world  might 

Have  life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly  ; 

The  massive  Trunk,  and  corporate  Head,  wherein 

The  members  grew.     He  was  capacious,  globed, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  13 

No  fraction,  figment,  or  amorphous  process  ; 

Of  atmospheric  freedom  and  embrace. 

In  him  met  Roman,  Goth,  and  Greek,  and  Jew, 

To  whom  he  gave  the  glory  God  gave  him, 

Snatching  from  heaven  the  kindling  brand  for  earth. 

Lower  he  was  than  we,  for  sufferance  sake, 

And  mortal  sympathy ;  in  that  he  died, 

Superior :  we  worship  him,  and  cast 

Our  crowns  before,  for  that  sublimer  mood 

Which  plunged  itself  in  evil,  and  the  wave 

Subdued  •  —  what  the  impassive  host  are  not 

Allowed. 

That  fraternity  he  formed 
Of  godlike  minds,  and  bodies  luminous, 

Intemerate,  holy  natures,  called  the  church; 

How  does  it  ?     I  have  travelled  many  a  rood, 
And  comet  stage,  since  the  nativity. 

Philo.     Alas  !  that  clew  of  curious  search  should 

draw 
You  to  a  field  so  little  promising ! 

Gabriel     It  has  been  whispered  in  our  bands 
of  Earth  ! 
2 


14  PHILO: 

The  depths  ethereal  resounded,  Earth. 
Having  a  scroll  on  which  was  written,  Earth, 
A  courier,  breathless,  came  amongst  us.     Down 
The  battlements  have  leaned  the  ransomed  ones, 
Toward  the  Earth.     This  speculation,  What 
Of  Earth  ?  doth  silent  work  in  every  breast. 
The  seraph  missionaries  met  to  weigh 
The  state  of  things :  Earth !  Earth !  was  all  their 

theme. 

At  length,  from  Christ,  your  Savior,  orders  came 
That  I  should  visit  Earth,  to  see  and  aid, 
And  smooth  eventful  course.     I  know  not  all 
Crises  are  stirring,  ends  are  not  disclosed. 
I  must  look  o'er  the  ground,  what  hopes  appear, 
What  fears  dismay. 

The  church  and  state,  'tis  said, 
Have  sold  themselves  to  sin.  —No  more  of  this 
At  present.     Entertain  me  as  you  will 
To-day. 

Philo.     On  yonder  hill,  the  children  keep 
A  rural  festival.     Wilt  thou  go  there  ? 

Gabriel     Nought  pleasing  more.      He,   whom 
all  homage  fits. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  15 

To  youthful  souls  did  homage  ;  loved  the  dew 
Of  childhood  ;  fairest  imagery  of  his 
Own  innocence,  ere  dried  by  worldliness, 
Or  shaken  by  &  rude  utility. 

Philo.     The    purest  coin  is  dulled,  and   sadly 

frayed, 

In  various  transit  through  the  hands  of  men. 
But  let  us  on ;  we  strike  across  these  fields. 
Here  enter  we  the  woods  He  loved  to  walk. 
That  is  a  thorn,  whereof  they  knit  his  crown,  — 
Disgrace  evolved  in  more  than  poet's  bays. 
Behold !  the  twin-flower,  in  treasury 
Of  spiritual  life,  casts  its  two  ruby  mites ! 
Did  not  it  win  his  blessing  ?     Birds  you  hear  ; 
The  thrush's  tender  pipe,  the  pewit's  moan 
Of  penitence.     From  harrying  ways  of  men, 
Did  dulcet  wood-notes  ne'er  beguile  his  steps 
Where  all  is  calm,  and  tonical,  he  came, 
And  oft  in  forests  dim,  and  mountains  lone, 
He  sought  amends  for  life's  incessant  waste. 
Gabriel.     I  hear  the  children. 
Philo.  In  that  tuft  of  trees, 


16  PHILO: 

Beyond  the  brook,  they  sit  embowered.     And  there, 
Beneath  an  oak,  is  their  collation  spread, 
A  picnic  gathering  of  fruits,  cakes,  flowers. 

Gabriel     They  sing. 

Philo.  A  song  their  pastor  teaches  them. 

HYMN    TO   JESUS. 

O  Son  of  God  !  thy  children  we  ; 

Train  us  in  holiness  : 
As  thou  the  Father's  image  bore, 

Thine  own  on  us  impress. 

• 
O  Bread  of  God  !  our  natures  crave 

The  lost  beatitude  : 
The  Father  gave  thee  meat  unknown  ; 

Give  us  thy  flesh  and  blood. 

O  Vine  of  God  !  of  thee  bereft, 

Our  virtues  wilt  and  die  : 
Thou  wert  the  Father's  tender  care  ; 

Shield  us,  when  danger  's  nigh. 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  17 

O  Word  of  God !  thy  voice  we  hear, 

And  hail  the  truth  divine  ; 
To  thy  commandments,  broad  and  pure, 

Our  hearts  and  ways  incline. 

O  Love  of  God  !  we  seek  to  dwell 

In  love,  and  God,  and  thee  ; 
The  end  of  woes,  the  end  of  sins, 

Shall  love's  perfection  be. 

Light  of  the  World !  our  path  illume  ; 

The  shadowy  fear  disperse  ; 
Shine  on  these  realms  of  woe  and  sin  ; 

Undo  the  heavy  curse. 

Water  of  Life  !  our  life's  sweet  spring, 

In  us  thy  stream  renew  ; 
On  lowly  grace  thy  grace  distil, 

Kindly  as  Hermon's  dew. 

O  Shepherd !  guard  thy  little  flock  ; 
Keep  us  from  strife  and  guile  ; 

2* 


18  PlilLO. 

Serene  our  life  ;  be  our  life's  close 
Calm  as  a  summer  isle. 

O  Crucified  !  we  share  thy  cross  j 

Thy  passion  too  sustain  ; 
We  die  thy  death,  tc  live  thy  life, 

And  rise  with  thee  again. 

O  Glorified  !  thy  glory  breaks  ; 

Our  new-born  spirits  sing  ; 
Salvation  cometh  with  the  morn  ; 

Hope  spreads  an  heavenward  wing. 

Gabriel.     'T would    gladden   you   to    hear   the 

lyric  choired 

At  the  Nativity,  composed  by  Raphael  j 
The  spheres  our  orchestra.     Th'  angelic  tongue 
Is  hard  to  turn  in  English  ;  the  refrain 
Alone  was  caught,  by  one  rapt  seer  abroad 
That  night,  his  spirit  haunted  with  a  love 
For  man  that  made  him  watch  the  times.     The 

sound 


ANEVANGELIAD.  19 

Doth  echo  through  the  earth,  but  void,  I  fear, 
And  dim  ;  —  a  feather  drifting  from  our  wing, 
That  vain  and  gairish  faith  pricks  in  its  cap. 

Philo.     Our  minister  is  a  new  hand  at  rhymes  ; 
He  rolls  them  off  as  teamsters  bales  of  cotton  ; 
Waits  Art's  more  perfect  day  for  the  fine  tissue. 
The  children  quit  their  arbor,  rife  with  glee  ; 
Exchanging  song  for  play,  solemnities 
With  pastime  alternating.     Goodly  sight ! 
The  girls,  in  vesture  white  and  garlands  green, 
Chasing  the  flowers  through  inwooded  glens; 
And  boys,  by  pastoral  instruction  led. 
Reading  a  bird's  nest,  down  among  the  flags, 
For  lessons  high  of  God's  paternal  care. 

Gabriel     I  would  speak  with  them.  —  Who  are 
you  ? 

First  Girl     Christ's  child. 

Gabriel  And  who  are  you  ? 

Second  Girl     Christ's  child.     We  all  are  sisters. 

Gabriel     Above  their  age,  and  yet  but  equal 

to't, 
Since  wisdom's  height  is  childhood's  lowliness. 


20  PHILO: 

Philo.     Prolong  the  catechism. 

Gabriel  Why  do  you  live  ? 

The  Girls.     For  perfectness  and  purity. 

Gabriel.     How  live  ? 

The  Girls.  Christ  is  our  life. 

Gabriel     Whither  tend  you  ? 

The  Girls.  To  God  and  heaven. 

Gabriel     A  wicked  world  constraining,  what 
mean  you  ? 

The  Girls.     To  shine  as  lights.     The  trailing 

arbute  scents 
The  frosty  sedge,  and  blooms  in  wastes  of  snow. 

Gabriel     Your   parents,  brothers,  and  the  for 
eigner, 

The  beggar  boy,  the  slave,  the  ignorant, 
The  prisoner,  your  country's  enemy,  — 

The  Girls.     We  love  them  all.     On  the  Carib 
bean  coast, 

The  cow-tree  grows  'mongst  arid  rocks  ;  as  rocks 
'Tis  dead  and  dry  ;  but  pricked,  it  yields  you  juice 
As  sweet  and  rich  as  milk.     On  yonder  stump, 
Decayed  and  black,  these  pretty  bellworts  grew. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  21 

We  dance  round  and  round ; 

We  live  in  harmony  j 
So  the  stars  sound, 

Such  God's  eternity. 

On  JStna  sprouts  the  rose  ; 

Of  none  do  we  beware  ; 
Children  men  enclose, 

A  sister  dwelleth  every  where. 

Gabriel.     Heaven   bless  you ;    angels  keep   in 

wardenship, 

Lest  on  a  stone  you  dash  your  feet.     Again 
We  meet  among  the  higher  seats,  where  sin 
And  hate  no  more  annoy,  JEtncan  heats 
No  more  assail  the  tender  buds  of  virtue. 
Philo,  I  never  was  a  child,  nor  felt, 
Like  him,  the  pangs  of  weak  humanity. 
Our  joys  are  absolute,  not  eked  from  contrasts  ; 
Within  ourselves  a  sun.     Sometimes  the  lot 
Orbitual  I  affect,  and  would  endure 
The  shadowy  spasm,  for  exultation's  sake, 


22  PHILO: 

To  wheel  abreast  the  morn.     But  ne'er  the  air 
Do  fishes  seek ;  one  state  for  them  and  us. 

Philo.     Within  the  forest,  granite-laden  teams 
To  a  ledge  wore  a  path,  now  velveted 
With  age  and  grass  ;  let  us  walk  there.     The  sun 
Has  dropped  below  the  trees,  and  left  the  sky, 
So  cool  and  blue,  through  quivering  interstice 
Of  overarching  spray,  to  light  the  place. 
In  brush-wood  crypts,  the  children's  clamor  dies 
Eddying  away.     Tell  me  of  Angelage. 

Galrid.     O'er   will   of  mortals    we   do    not 

preside  ; 

That  is  prerogative  of  God  alone  ; 
Nor   sermons   preach,    nor   life   lay   down,  like 

Christ. 

An  influence  we,  like  memory  of  youth, 
That  combs  in  sea-like,  on  the  reef  of  feeling. 
Charming  the  soul  with  an  immortal  hope. 
Anon,  as  midnight  music,  we  arrest 
The  ear  of  sin,  and  make  the  wanton  pause  ; 
We  writhle  from  the  skies,  in  maple  keys ; 
The  conscience  hears  our  voice,  in  sister  tones, 


AN    EVANGELIAD:  23 

And  hatred  melts  into  pure  human  love. 
We  brood  o'er  steps  of  helpless  orphanage, 
As  sunbeams  flicker  on  that  slighted  moss. 
All  souls  have  guardians,  that  follow  them, 
As  hopes  of  fathers  hover  round  their  sons. 
Of  nature's  laws,  by  man  so  named,  the  gift 
Is  not  with  us  to  bind  or  loose.     But  this, 
To-day,  I  have,  in  specialty  from  Christ, 
To  be  invisible  or  visible, 
And  make  you  so,  and  traverse  space  and  time. 

Philo.     The  Fortunatus'  cap  I  thank  you  for,  — 
Unless  I  lose  my  breath. 

Gabriel.  Lose  heart,  perchance. 

Philo.     That  is  fast  bolted  to  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

Gabriel.     You  may  see  sights  you  do  not  wish 

to  see, 
And  hear  infernal  sounds. 

Philo.  Nil  admirari  ! 

I  am  forearmed  in  virtue  and  reflection, 
And  fear  not  devils  even. 

Gabriel.  I  would  first 

Hold  conference  with  your  several  clergymen, 
How  shall  they  meet  ? 


24  P  II I  L  0  : 

Philo.  They  do  not  oft  convene, 

Except  at  fires,  or  in  the  shambles,  or 
To  do  the  state  some  service  ;  in  the  name 
Of  Christ,  their  mutual  Lord,  they  never  join. 

Gabriel.     He,  whom  God  vested  with  omnipo 
tence, 

Before  whose  face  all  wickedness  should  flee, 
May  yet  unite  them  ;  that  is  not  my  task. 

Philo.     There   rides  one  in  his  carriage  ;    will 

you  have 
An  introduction  ? 

Gabriel  I  will  speak  without ; 

His  answer  shall  be  free,  and  all  unowed.  — 
Good  sir,  from  Christ's  behest,  and  in  his  cause, 
Who  sees  his  church  embroiled,  and  sin  prolonged, 
With  you,  his  public  functioner,  a  word. 
'Tis  truth  your  ear  would  gain,  important  truth, 
And  this,  without  respect  of  persons,  speaks. 
Redemption  eases  not  creation's  groan  ; 
Prophetic  type  no  antitype  discerns ; 
War  occupies  and  wastes  the  Christian  clans  ; 
The  slave's  long  woe  no  jubilee  arrests  ; 


AN    EVANGELIA1).  25 

The  laborer's  hire  to  God  of  Sabaoth  cries  ; 
No  brotherhood  of  man  in  Christ  obtains. 
At  least  this  rumor  reacheth  every  where. 
For  concord,  strength,  and  general  extension, 
To  aid  the  secret  life,  and  outward  bloom, 
Facilitate  the  coming  of  your  Lord,  — 
Both  you,  and  others  of  the  sacred  vest, 
I  ask  to  meet  with  me  at  Philo's  rooms. 

The  Minister.     Your  words  are  weighty  ;  and 

long  has  my  heart 

The  burden  borne.     Your  method  's  not  so  clear. 
Tenets  of  faith  must  lead  in  all  reform, 
Or  infidelity  may  unawares 
Possess  the  field,  and  push  our  end  aside. 

Philo.     I  fear  for  thy  adventure  ;  God  help  us ! 
Another  comes  ;  apply  thyself  to  him. 

Gabriel.     Could  I  depend  on  your  accord,  and 

due 

Support,  in  pertinence  of  Christ's  blest  cause  ? 
Second  Minister.      That  cause   keeps   Holy 

Mother  Church  in  charge  ; 
Has  she  commissioned  you  to  act  for  her  ? 
3 


26  PH1LO: 

Good  is  your  purpose,  where  the  sacred  seal  ? 

Our  rubrics  point  the  way  ;  or,  otherwise. 

All  viperous  heresy  our  bosom  warms. 

In  God's  own  time,  millennial  glories  rise  ; 

Our  duty  is  to  wait  on  him.     And  yet, 

In  private  feeling,  could  I  help  in  aught 

Your  aims,  it  should  be  done.  —  I  am  perplexed  ; 

Forgive  my  awkwardness.     We  meet  again. 

Gabriel.     There  is  a  burning  sense  of  need ;  all 

hearts 

Are  throbbing  as  before  some  secret  vision. 
Philo,  put  on  your  cap ;  we  will  away. 
What  see  you  ? 

Philo.     Trees,  like  men  from  battle  fleeing ; 
Rivers  cross  rivers,  poleward  scuds  the  sun. 

Gabriel.     What  now  ? 

Philo.          Luxuriant  fields  and  sunny  streams  ; 
The  forest  whitens  to  a  bed  of  lilies  ; 
Unwonted  birds  unwonted  music  make  ; 
The  air  is  charged  with  rare  perfumery  : 
Are  we  in  heaven  ? 

Gabriel.     What  sets  your  eye  ? 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  27 

Philo.  A  man, 

Beside  that  river's  brink,  a  naked  man  ; 
And  if  my  sight  be  not  at  fault,  his  back 
Is  waled  and  bloody.     Let's  observe  him  nearer. 

The  Man.     Into  the   ocean's   boundless   arms, 

this  stream 

Rolls  on  j  bear  me  to  that  great  liberty. 
Better  devoured,  on  billowy  freedom  tossed, 
Than  rot,  in  furrows,  'neath  the  hands  of  men. 

0  Carolina,  am  I  not  thy  son  ? 

Run  not  these  veins  with  thy  most  princely  blood  ? 
Why  written  slave  ?    why  doomed  to  that  dread 

fate? 

Have  I  not  feelings,  will,  intelligence, 
And  sense  of  manhood,  yearnings  for  the  highest  ? 

1  cannot  live  ;  with  death  I  sooner  join 
Issue  than  life.  —  Who's  near  ? 

Philo.  Haste  we  ;  save  him. 

Hold  here,  my  fellow  ;  we  are  friends.     Tell  us, 
What  is  your  grief. 

The  Man.     My  master  had  a  daughter, 
Whose  books  I  bore  ;  and  while  she  slept,  I  stole 


28  PHILO: 

The  alphabet,  and  gained  the  printed  secret. 

Some  years  before,  when  she  was  yet  a  child, 

These  arms  across  a  swamp  did  carry  her, 

And  helped  her  gather  jasmines.     She  bade  me, 

Whene'er  I  lacked,  to  sue  to  her,  and  she 

Would  humor  me.     Once,  leaning  on  her  book, 

I  saw  her  sigh,  and  in  her  eyes  stood  tears. 

1  Why  sigh  you  so  ? '  I  asked.    '  For  truth,'  she  said, 

1  And  liberty  of  thought ;  to  be  dissolved 

1  From  slavery  to  forms,  and  creeds,  and  power 

1  Of  bigotry.'     My  heart  within  was  smote, 

And  I  did  sigh.     '  What  ails  you,  Pomp  ? '  said  she. 

1  Tell  me  your  want.'     'The  liberty  of  life,' 

I  answered.     l  Chains  are  on  my  feet  and  soul ; 

'  My  being,  labors,  aims,  gains,  love,  time,  name, 

'  Are  all  in  slavery.'     <  You  shall  go  free,' 

She  said,  and  showed  the  way  to  freedom's  land. 

Four  nights  I  ran,  four  days  in  forests  hid  ; 

One  hour  enlargement  grasped,  one  hour  indulged 

My  birthright's  wild  extravagance  ;  the  next 

Reversed  the  whole,  and  sent  me  back  a  slave. 

Thrice  thirteen  lashes  welcomed  me,  and  wounds 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  29 

Untold  of  insult  and  revenge.     I  sought 
To  be  a  man,  and  this  my  retribution ! 
I  cannot  bide  my  time  ;  I  have  no  time,  — 
It  is  my  master's ;  mine,  eternity 
Shall  be.     The  dogs  are  near,  —  delay  me  not. 
The  fair  magnolia  annoys  my  sight  ; 
The  thrifty  cane  but  marks  my  growing  wrong  ; 
The  mocking  bird  derides  my  agony. 
Farewell  to  you,  my  friends,  and  all  my  woes. 
Philo.     He  goes,  too  nobly   great   for   such   a 

plunge  ! 
Gabriel     Behold  that  bubble  rising  from  the 

wave  ; 

The  death  gasp  mounts,  dilating  ;  'tis  on  fire  ; 
A  flaming  wheel  it  rolls  along  the  air  ; 
It  glows  as  if  a  thousand  ovens  burned  : 
We'll  follow  it ;  a  meteor  incensed, 
It  shoots  athwart  the  land ;  all  eyes  are  drawn 
To  it.     It  bursts  ;  the  blazing  shreds,  like  hail, 
Are  scattered.     People  build  a  wondrous  pyre, 
And,  lo  !  whips,  fetters,  and  all  instruments 
And  signs  of  slavery  are  cast  thereon. 
3* 


30  PHILO: 

The  volleyed  paean  list,  and  loud  huzzas. 
See  how  the  riven  races  close  as  brothers  ; 
Hear  how  a  continental  joy  explodes, 
And  rolls  a-thundering  along  the  earth  ! 

Philo.     Into  the  future  thou  hast  borne  me  far ; 
Return  we  to  our  point,  in  place  and  time, 
And  with  these  visions  let  my  actions  rhyme. 

SCENE  —  Air  and  Earth. 

Philo.     Steer  we   not   high,   but   rather   slant 
ingly  ; 

Let  me  not  lose  the  sight  of  Earth.     I  would 
Just  skim  along  its  surface,  as  a  swallow. 
I  tear  a  sprig  from  this  tall  pine,  it  smells 
Of  Earth,  will  keep  the  recollection  fresh. 
I  would  not  be  immersed  in  blaze  of  orbs, 
That  shall  eclipse  the  light  of  that  I  call 
My  own.     The  Earth  is  damned  by  distancing. 
In  hands  of  poets,  preachers,  it  fares  hard, 
Not  to  enlarge  on  what  the  devil  has  done. 
They  get  so  far  from  it,  their  rhetoric 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  31 

Is  vexed  with  its  diminutive  conceit. 

They  cut  it  loose  from  its  own  proper  bond, 

And  hurl  it  darkling  into  ditch  of  hell. 

'Twixt  thumb  and  finger  holding  it,  as  boys 

A  seedy  dandelion,  to  the  winds 

Some  puff  it,  crying,  Such  is  Earth  !     Not  few 

Are  bent  on  burning  it  to  ashes,  as 

If  Time  were  an  old  smoker,  who  would  deem 

Our  shire  a  trifle  for  his  evening  pipe. 

I  fain  must  own,  I  love  the  Earth :  is  that 

A  vice  ?     Yet  did  not  He  who  died  for  it  ? 

I  cannot  see  it  heaved  like  draff  away, 

As  refuse  copper  sold  for  some  new  cast. 

Would  that  my  arms  were  large  enough  to  fold 

It  round  about,,  or  strong  enough  to  lift 

It  into  bed,  where  it  might  rest  a  while, 

And,  after  its  long  troubles,  get  some  sleep. 

I'd  cherish  it  most  lover-like,  anoint 

Its  head  with  gospel  oil,  and  heal  its  plagues. 

Ff  Earth  were  one  small  garden,  not  a  weed 

Should  grow  therein ;  if  it  were  one  glass  cup, 

No  alcohol  should  e'er  be  drank  from  it. 


'&£  PHILO: 

And  if  it  were  a  gem,  in  crown  of  Him, 

The  King  of  kings,  it  should  be  set.     Had  I 

The  years  of  Enos,  with  my  walking  stick 

I'd  measure  it,  and  rummage  every  nook 

And  corner  of  its  four  great  zones.  — Not  quite 

So  fast,  good  Gabriel,  and  lower  still. 

Each  bee-wooed  flower,  each  trout-brook,  every  child 

That  tottles  its  first  steps,  all  youthful  loves, 

The  girls  that  weave  for  widowed  motherhood, 

The  musical  sea-cliff,  and  the  lobster-catcher, 

As  well  as  hemispheres  and  nations,  show 

To  me. 

Gabriel.     Lo,  the  Magellan  Clouds,  and  there 
The  Southern  Cross ! 

Philo.  The  Cross,  all  beautiful,— 

Would  it  might  drop  to  Earth  ;  its  saving  gleam 
Beclip  the  universal  race  !  —  The  North, 
And  realms  of  the  Ice  King,  before  us  lie  ; 
Wild  geese  asleep  in  shadow  of  the  Pole, 
Ladies  of  Greenland  taking  tea  together  ! 

Gabriel.     The  tropics,  —  Isle  of  Borneo  behold. 

Philo.     I  see  a  tawny  man  up  to  a  temple 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  33 

Leading  his  child.     Before  an  idol  casts 
The  child  its  offering  of  flowe*rs,  and  kneels 
In  prayer.     Render  me  that  heathenism. 

Gabriel.     '  Great  God,  make  me  wise,  just,  and 
beautiful.' 

Philo.     Fair  Italy  !  'Tis  said  her  brilliant  sky 
More  soft  and  clear  makes  instruments  of  music. 
O,  when  shall  Love  be  the  Italian  sky 
Of  all  the  world !     We  cross  the  Turkish  plains 
Where  boys  and  girls  are  picking  blackberries. 
Napoleon  weeping  o'er  the  couch  of  Lannes ! 
St.  Patrick  driving  out  the  snakes  from  Ireland, 
The  bell  that  rang  the  ancient  Truce  of  God, 
A  Colonel  at  the  feet  of  Oberlin, 
The  brook  where  hostile  armies  met  and  drank, 
The  youthful  Theseus  on  his  way  to  Crete  !  — 

Gabriel.     These  pictures  leaving,  turn  to  facts. 

There  lies 

All  Europe  ;  —  London,  Paris,  and  Yienna. 
Which  will  you  visit  ?     The  English  chancellor 
From  cabinet  goes  to  his  library. 
Will  you  pursue,  and  list  his  thoughts  ?  or  walk 


PHILO: 

An  hour  with  yonder  poet  'mong  the  lakes  ? 

Or  tap  at  gateway  of  the  Escurial  ? 

Philo.     I  am  no  Sphinx.     That  problem   Eu 
ropean 

Outpuzzles  me.     Please  harness  me  to  Snowdon, 

And  bid  me  hale  it  o'er  to  Anglesey. 

All  beautiful  as  Lake  of  Uri,  now  ; 

I  look  again,  the  lake  is  dry.     So  brim 

My  thoughts  and  hopes,  and   Fate's   dark   crags 

around 

Are  glorious  ;  anon  the  water  sinks, 
And  I  am  left  a  hideous,  slimy  gorge. 
Ah,  hopeful  France !     Knows  she  her  destiny, 
What  she  could  do,  what  God  by  her  would  do  ? 
Spirits  of  Brissot,  Danton,  Vergniaud ! 
Ye  do  rejoice,  for  ye  loved  liberty. 
'  Brothers ! '  I  hear  those  martyrs  say,  <  withhold 
'  Yourselves  from  blood ;  that  is  inviolable  j 
1  Once  spilled,  unto  the  uttermost  it  will 
'  Avenge  itself.     In  fires  ourselves  set  on, 
'  We  fell,  and  fell  our  hopes,  and  were  consumed.' 
And,  brothers  mine,  your  armies  disallow, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  35 

Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  if  your  haters 
Be  seven  empires  fenced  in  triple  steel  ; 
'  And  ye  shall  be  God's  children,  who  will  clothe 
Your  non-resisting  front  with  lightning-blast, 
And  to  your  naked  virtue  give  your  foes 
As  driven  stubble.     Revolutionize 
In  love,  build  up  in  gentleness ;  so  save, 
And  be  saved  in  the  coming  turbulence. 
Take  me  back  to  my  mother-land,  most  good, 
Most  bad  America.     Atlantic  coast,  — 
It  is  a  noble  one.     What  bays,  and  ports, 
And  embouchures  of  streams  !     How  fine  a  sight, 
The  ships  of  all  the  globe  converging  here, 
Departing  ;  on  the  sunny  waters  gleam 
Their  sails,  like  doves'  wings ;  they,  as  those  same 

doves, 

Are  visiting  each  other's  nests.     The  forts, 
Gloomy  deformities,  their  eagle  beaks 
Intrude  among  the  doves.     Ah's  me  !     Fly  high, 
Above  them  fly  ;  not  a  glimpse  that  way. 
When  I  recall  those  engineries  of  hate, 
I  wish  I  were  well  quit  of  earth. 


36  PHILO: 

Gabriel  So  soon 

Unnerved !     You  loved  the  earth  but  yesterday, 
And  pledged  to  it  most  knightly  constancy. 

Philo.     I  do  love  it  ;  yet  there  are  times  when 

love 

Is  treated  so  one  wishes  not  to  love.  — 
Forward  !  albeit  my  love,  poor  blind  thing, 
Moving  amidst  this  endless  cairn  of  evil, 
Gets  bruised  each  step,  and  welters  all  the  way. 
The  foam  of  Hatteras !     I  hear  the  wail, 
The  pensive,  lone  wail  of  the  sea-green  sisters, 
That  tend  the  storm-seized,  close  the  swimmer's  eye, 
And  rocking  watch  o'er  rocking  sepulchres. 
Land  of  beauty  and  of  sorrow,  hail ! 
Palmetto  land  !     If  with  a  prophet's  eye, 
Still  with  a  brother's  heart,  I  thee  salute. 
Where  is  thy  brother,  that  free-hearted  slave  ? 
The  Florid  region  lifts  amain ;  alas  ! 
Florid  with  blood  of  men  who  loved  their  country ; 
Sole  true  and  patriot  Americans. 
Leap  we  across  to  Santa  Rosa.     Sooth, 
Those  savage  men  did  love  a  gentle  name. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  37 

The  Mississippi's  trifold  mouth,  where  pours 
The  wealth  of  half  the  continent !    What  odds, 
Let  it  go  here  or  there,  so  it  goes  free  ? 
And  back  it  cometh  every  where. 

Gabriel.     Philo,  your   flight  doth   stagger.     Is 

this  air, 

This  southern  air,  too  warm  for  you  ?    There  greens 
A  grove  of  oranges  ;  will  you  have  one  ? 

Philo.     Farther  this  way  I  dare  not  trust  myself. 
The  line  is  broken ;  on  the  breach,  a  shape 
Is  sitting,  thrice  more  terrible  than  Death  ; 
Hybrid  of  Sin  and  Hell  it  sure  might  be. 
Is  it  the  Devil  himself  ?     How  burn  those  eyes 
In  their  black  sockets  !     Its  grinning,  fleshless  jaws 
Crackle  with  merriment.     A  ragged  cloak, 
On  withered  shoulders,  jantily  is  tossed, 
As  if  some  rich  conceits  beneath  were  tickling. 

Gabriel     'Tis  War. 

Philo.  It  can  be  nothing  else  ;  and  that 

Is  Sin  and  Hell,     A  hundred  imps  are  near, 
As  ugly  as  their  dam,  all  busily 
Employed,  the  volunteers  with  cartridges 
4 


38  PII1LO: 

Supplying.     That  satanic  shape  doth  tip 
Her  red  cap  to  our  generals.     Must  I 
Go  nearer  ? 

Gabriel.       Wouldst  not  see  the  whole  ? 

Philo.  My  faith 

Is  sprained  •  it  cannot  walk.     But  let  me  know 
The  worst,  and  hang  my  hope,  meanwhile,  on  horn 
Of  the  pale  moon.     How  can  the  sun  shine  here  ? 

Phantasm  of  War.      Ha!   Gabriel,  thou  art  too 

late.      The  war 

Exists.  —  thou'lt  not  blame  me  lor  pushing  it. 
I  am  distressed  for  tliec,  dear  Philo  ;  why 
So  sad,  thy  look  replete  with  rue  ? 

Philo.  Thou  art 

Not  devil  damned,  but  devil  glorified. 

TFar.     Thou  art  quite  complimentary.      Work 

on, 

My  daughters  ;   never  mind  this  driveller. 
He's  probably  a  blue  light,  or  some  sour 
And  disappointed  bachelor,  that  hates 
The  sex.     Dear  Lechery,  and  sweet  Revenge, 
Thou  nimble  Drunkenness,  nice  children  all, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  39 

Are  ye  tired  ?     We  have  a  good  deal  to  do. 
Once  in,  there  is  no  backing  out,  you  know. 
There's  Fever,  she  is  really  wearing  down. 
Come  hither,  duck  ;  there  lies  a  tender  child 
Fresh  from  Tabasco,  where  a  patriot  winged  it ;  — 
We  gave  the  man  a  medal ;  —  It  is  warm 
And  quivering  ;  apply  it  to  thy  chest,  — 
'Twill  strengthen  thee. 

Philo.  Heaven's  hottest  fury  on 

This  business  crash ! 

War.  Art  troubled  with  weak  nerves  ? 

Come  hither,  Patriotism,  adopted  one,  — 
I  gained  her  to  our  side,  though  obstinate, 
And  now  none  serves  me  with  a  better  will,  — 
Take  this  young  man.  and  dingle  Office  in 
His  ears  — 

Philo.     Off,  fiends ! 

War,  He's  surly  ;  waste  no  time 

With  him. 

Philo.     O,  lost,  lost,  lost  America  ! 
O,  utterly  undone  !  damned,  damned  forever  ! 
Was  wealth  of  worlds  e'er  cast  so  vile  away  ! 


40  P  II 1  L  O  : 

Thy  government  turns  out  a  worthless  sham. 

Thy  history  is  black,  as  black  as  hell, 

Nor  can  it  e'er  be  written  clean.     Thy  deeds 

Heroic  but  eternize  thy  disgrace. 

See  yonder!    Christians  fight,  and  clergymen, 

On  either  side,  baptize  the  massacre  ; 

Cross  batters  cross  on  heights  of  Monterey ; 

And  hate  perennial,  on  thy  margin  springs, 

O  Rio  Grande  !     There  are  Poets  too 

In  the  piratic  files.     'Tis  not  the  cost 

Dismays  me,  Gabriel  ;  the  enmity 

Engendered  here  I  dread.  —  the  rupturing 

Of  ties  that  should  all  nations  interlace, 

The  thrusting  in  of  ages  right  in  front 

Of  Progress,  long  step  backward  of  all  Good. 

This  precedent,  where  shall  it  find  a  bound  ? 

How  rapidly  doth  Evil  culminate 

At  such  an  hour  !     These  splintered  bodies  rot, 

And  feed  a  growth  of  everlasting  curses. 

These  shattered  houses  may  be  built  again,  — 

How  healed  the  bruised  heart  of  Mexico  ? 

With  my  own  country  I've  no  sympathy 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  41 

Herein  ;  no,  not  a  thimblefull.     A  war, 

A  freeman's  war,  in  aid  of  slavery  ! 

Had  ever  strife  so  poor  a  countenance  ? 

For  Liberty,  and  Love,  and  Holiness, 

My  blood  should  go,  and  wealth,  to  the  last  mill, 

If  such  the  order  ;  here,  on  Palo  Alto, 

I  leave  a  tear,  and  bitterer  was  dropped 

Never  from  mortal  eyes.     I  would  away. 

Gabriel.     The  moon  has  gone  j  where  is  your 

hope  ?     Not  yet 
Our  journey  's  ended. 

Philo.  God  remains.     O  Thou 

Inscrutable,  my  blindness  bows  to  Thee  ! 
My  troubles  shore  upon  thy  bosom,  God  • 
In  this  thy  sufferance  of  wrong,  let  not 
My  feeble  will  be  harassed.     Thou  art  just  ; 
But  spare  my  country  ;  let  returning  love 
Forestall  the  course  of  doom,  prevent  the  law 
Of  ruin.     Ope  the  eyes  of  all  our  rulers, 
Supremest  councils  of  the  nation  bring 
To  penitence.     The  people's  passions  wild, 
And  cruel  selfishness,  consume  before 


42  PHILO. 

The  brightness  of  the  Coming  of  thy  Son. 
Renew  the  hour,  lift  up  the  prostrate  times. 

Gabriel     You  have  some  hope  ? 

Philo.  Not  while  we  tarried  there. 

Gabriel.     Your  western  boundary  comes   into 
view. 

Philo.     There  we  just  missed  a  fight ;  to  whom 

be  thanks, 

'Twere  hard  to  say,  save  it  be  God.     Why  mind 
What  bunting  floats  o'er  Oregon  ?     Nay,  let 
A  hundred  flags  be  twist  to  one  tall  staff, 
And  perched  on  topmost  peak  of  that  IICAV  province, 
The  signal  bright  of  comity  and  love. 
Let  that  be  freedom's  land,  the  land  we  boast, 
But  have  not  ;  family  home  of  all  the  earth, 
Fireside  of  nations  ;  the  Odd  Fellows'  Lodge 
Of  sultans,  czars,  and  kings,  and  presidents, — 
Eclecticism  of  governments.     Let  it 
Become  a  Christian  realm,  where  all  are  brothers. 
Gabriel     'Twill  make  us  late  in  getting  round, 

if  you 
Must  moralize  each  league. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  43 

Philo.  Our  northern  mete 

Invisible  !  those  Christian,  restive  waves 
Will  bide  no  stakes,  and  melt  the  devil's  attempt 
At  definition.     I  breathe  freer  here. 
The  South  I  love,  its  clime,  its  fruit,  its  birds 
That  on  New  England  summers  sweetly  flute  ; 
Its  people  too,  and  their  humanities ; 
I  love  their  interests  as  much  as  they  ; 
There  are  magnific  spirits  there,  and  thoughts 
Of  highest  augury.     But  ah !  there  is 
A  system  there,  that  double-knots  those  states 
In  curses,  banefully  ubiquitous, 
Invisibly  inclenching  all  our  hearts, 
That  makes  me  hackle  when  I  have  gone  there. 
The  North  is  not  pure,  but  its  vice,  each  wise 
And  prudent  hand  may  clip.     Authority 
Does  not  compel  to  dumbness,  nor  is  sin 
The  underprop  of  our  establishment. 
Reform  is  free,  each  bird  sings  its  own  song  ; 
E'en  selfishness  is  friable  ;  who  lists 
May  quit  the  lump  he  does  not  like.     But,  look ! 
The  whole  doth  flatter  hope,  shall 't  not  fulfil  ? 


44  PIIILO: 

What  breadth  of  tillage,  grazing,  mineral  wild, 

And  navigable  water  !     What  a  sky 

Pavilions  the  great  realm  !     Doth  Venus'  eye, 

From  the  gray  forehead  of  the  night,  ray  out 

More  witchingly  on  any  other  planet  ? 

Is  not  our  twilight  gorgeously  expressed 

As  Saturn's  rings  ?     Know'st  thou  of  better  wheat 

Than  Genescc  ?     What  herds  of  cows,  and  girls 

To  milk  them  !     Gabriel,  it  is  thy  wand 

That  brings  these  scenes  before  me.     Thou  hast 

found 

My  hope,  a  little  rumpled  in  its  fall ; 
I  am  right  glad  to  have  it  back  again. 
In  long  procession  pass  the  Scholars,  fired 
With  a  Young  World's  enthusiasm.     Count  me 
Those  Church  spires,  as  a  forest,  moving  East  ; 
The  lumbermen,  transplanting  woods  with  towns  ; 
Blacksmiths,  whose  smirchy  thews  are  sweltering 
With  thought ;  a  noble  host  of  martyr  men, 
A  goodly  company  of  stern  protesters  ; 
Poets,  with  pens  that  flash  as  burning  swords  ; 
And  some  greatheartedness  in  Mammon's  guise, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  45 

With  tenderness  in  ribald  Atheism, 

I  see  ;  Hope's  golden  arch,  a  rainbow  dim, 

Bestrides  the  horizon,  and  tearful  eyes 

Are  brightened  at  the  sight.     There  files  along 

The  League  of  Universal  Brotherhood  ; 

Move  quick,  my  friends ;  'twill  take  a  month  to  cross 

That  river.     Collars  of  the  Temperate  Sons 

Swarm-gleam  among  the  hills.     I  am  revived. 

Come  see  me  at  thy  leisure,  Gabriel ; 

I  shall  be,  by  and  by,  completely  well. 

SCENE  —  A  River  Side. 

Philo  and  Annie. 

Philo.     Dearest,  my  heart  saluteth  thee. 

Annie.  With  all 

My  heart,  I  send  the  salutation  back  ; 
That  heart  in  chidings  armed  for  your  delay, 
Truly  subdued  by  your  sweet  duteousness  ; 
And  yet  it  holds  you  captive  at  its  will, 
As  whilom  Cleopatra  the  great  Cassar. 

Philo.     I   am  late  just  twelve  minutes  by  my 
watch. 


46  P  11 1  L  O  : 

Annie.     The  hour   appointed,   love   doth   quiet 

wait, 

As  snow-drops  sleep  till  dawn  ;  but  oversteps 
It  has  no  fitness  for,  or  power  against. 
They  are  one's  most  impetuous  temptations. 
Therefor  not  scripture  nor  philosophy 
Have  made  provision ;  they  outwit  all  reason. 
Could  I  pluck  out  my  watch  and  tale  the  ticks  ? 
Twelve  minutes  are  suspensions  twelve,  the  cord 
Of  Phaedra  twelve  corded  ;  'twixt  one  and  t'other, 
The  worst  we  choose  to  an  uncertain  best. 
All  yesterday  you  were  away,  and  now 
Behindhand.     I  mistrust  that  Angel,  lest 
He  spoil  your  taste,  and  make  you  dainty. 

Philo.     And  if  I  were,  what  should  approve  my 

choice 
But  you  ? 

Annie.      And  if  you  are,  whom  should  I  love 
But  you  ?     Your  absence  fills  my  void,  in  that 
'Tis  full  of  your  extreme  philanthropy. 

Philo.     What  busied  you  ? 

Annie.  Shall  I  rehearse  the  day  ? 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  47 

To  tell  the  whole,  I  got  up  with  the  sun, 
And  went  to  matins  with  the  birds  ;  and  next 
Helped  on  the  breakfast,  set  the  table,  ground 
The  coffee,  herrings  roasted  for  my  father  ; 
Then  swept  the  parlor,  dusted  down  the  stairs : 
Weeded  my  garden,  read  the  Harbinger, 
Practised  the  music  that  you  sent  to  me  ; 
Then  dressed  for  company.     The  afternoon, 
I  answered  calls,  and  took  a  walk  with  Julia. 
The  evening,  with  the  twilight  and  the  stars, 
Philo,  so  holy  in  our  love,  was  yours. 
I  read  your  note  :  the  marvel  of  your  flight 
Surprised,  and  more  delighted  me.     I  thought 
Of  you  in  your  new  aerostation,  now 
On  mountains  spired,  now  dropping  into  jails, 
And  of  your  soul's  unbounded  exercise. 
And  then,  as  onward  fared  the  hours,  and  Night 
Her  mantle  drew  more  close  upon  the  earth, 
And  there,  alone,  in  my  still  chamber  sitting,  — 
From  all  the  words  we  ever  spake  together, 
From  all  the  hopes  we  ever  felt  together, 
What  times  the  meadow's  beauty  ravished  us, 


48  PHILO: 

What  times  the  Sabbath's  stillness  soothed  us, 

From  faithful  friends,  and  pious  parentage. 

From  visions  that  we  cherish,  and  from  fears 

That  harrow  us,  —  from  all,  as  'twere  a  breeze, 

Was  wafted  to  my  heart  a  weird  emotion, 

A  gushing  ecstasy,  a  melody 

Of  tenderness,  that  made  me  weep,  oppressed 

By  very  welling  of  the  deepest  joy. 

I  went  to  bed,  that  undiminished  brook 

Of  love  still  gliding  through  me  ;  all  the  night 

It  t winked,  and  babbles,  with  a  silver  tongue, 

Now  that  its  morn  appears,  your  gentle  face. 

Philo.     It  is  a  circular  stream,  enchannelling  me ; 
Its  source  and  end  are  God.     My  happiness 
Is  all  in  loving,  being  loved,  my  force 
And  influence  selectest.    Hail,  God's  love, 
And  Annie's  !     Welcome,  beauty,  welcome,  truth  ! 
Would  Philo's  love  were  worthier  such  a  love  ! 

Annie.     If  strength  of  love  could  make  the 

worthless  worthy, 
Then  mine  should  make  yours  so. 

Philo.  If  a  pure  love 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  49 

Could  make  the  strongest  stronger,  then   should 

mine 
Make  yours  so. 

Annie.  Love  reveals  us  to  ourselves, 

Enkindles  consciousness  'of  what  we  are, 
And  makes  us  multiples  of  what  we  were  ;  — 
A  witched  vibration  up  and  down  my  frame, 
A  wanton  tingling  in  my  fingers'  ends, 
A  sprite  aBolian  breathing  through  my  heart. 
A  demisemiquavering  trill  comes  on, 
When  Philo's  step  I  hear,  and  greets  him  with 
A  song  ;  as  Adriatic  boatmen's  sons 
Their  fathers  greet,  returning  home  at  eve, 
Tying  the  sea-note  with  their  strepent  joys. 

Philo.     A  light-foot  wayfarer  is  Annie's  voice  ; 
It  follows  me,  it  lights  upon  my  ear  ; 
My  work,  and  thought,  and  solitude  it  haunts, 
And  all  my  sojournings  ;  like  Saadi's  clay, 
That,  touched  by  roses,  smelt  of  rose  so  long. 

Annie.     This  ever  was  a  favorite  stroll,  and  now 
Twice  blest  by  your  good  company.     Man's  works 
Improve,  or  misimprove,  the  valley  through  ; 
5 


50  PHILO: 

They  cannot  meddle  with  the  water,  nor 
Disturb  the  bold,  green  front  of  yonder  bluff, 
Whose  shadow  grows  no  less,  though  otherwheres 
White  houses  break  the  solemn  face  of  nature. 
And  now,  just  as  in  former  years  I've  seen, 
There   comes  that   same  old,   grindy,   mob-cap 

woman, 

Out  of  the  elfin  gully,  with  a  pail, 
To  dip  her  daily  tribute  from  the  stream. 
She  lives  among  the  rocks,  in  that  brown  hut, 
Whose  roof  the  sun  has  much  ado  to  find. 
Behold  a  log  driver,  in  his  red  shirt ! 
He  whistles  cheerly  to  his  cranky  craft ; 
Right  strong  he  pulls  to  shun  an  eddy  now, 
He  darts  along  the  swift  and  narrow  strait, 
Now  in  the  broad  and  temperate  expanse, 
Folding  his  trouble  up,  he  lights  his  pipe 
The  swallows  try,  as  we  girls  used  to  do, 
To  touch  the  water,  and  not  wet  their  feet. 
There  goes  a  little  steamboat,  loaded  deep 
With  shingles,  eggs,  and  sheep,  and  your  dear  men 
And  women,  issuing,  ghostlike,  from  the  hills, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  51 

And  in  the  hills  evanishing.     I  hear 

The  click  of  whetstones  in  the  mowing  far. 

Beyond  the  fence,  through  half-grown  corn,  slow 

fares 

The  ploughman,  peer  and  peasant,  both  in  one. 
Boys  chase  a  muskrat  to  the  death,  not  one 
Of  whom  shall  dare  attempt  that  robin's  life. 
1  Wherefore  ? '  you  ask  ;   and  they  reply,  '  'Twould 

make 

<  The  cows  give  bloody  milk.'     Most  selfish  cause, 
Charles  would  instruct  you. 

Philo.  Nay,  'tis  ignorant 

Humanity's  device  of  mercy. 

Annie.  Life, 

Dear  Philo,  all  is  life  ;  but  whimsical 
Are  its  conceits,  unknown  its  varied  springs. 

Philo.     The  odd  and  wicked  even,  lie  within  ; 
We  see  what  we  are,  and  what  is  mistake, 
As  reeling  drunkards  damn  their  capering  beds. 

Annie.     Beshrew  us  all  moralities  to-day, 
And  let  us  love,  and,  loving,  every  thing 
Behold  with  colored  eyes.     Let  us  sit  here. 


52  F  H  1  L  O  : 

The  bank,  by  careful  husbandry  of  cows, 

Is  smooth  as  any  English  lawn.     Be  we 

The  barons  of  the  hour.     Let  us  enjoy, 

Not  lucubrate.     Reflection  's  pokerish, 

Like  walking  on  those  saw-mill  logs  ;  —  step  quick, 

And  you  go  safe  ;  to  dally  is  to  sink. 

The  troubled  world  of  thought  we  two  will  cleave, 

Like  yonder  pair  of  goldfinches,  and  sing 

As  we  fly  on,  or  silent  move  in  rhythm. 

Philo.     In  such  a  bleak  and  stormy  age,  our  nest 
How  shall  we  build  ? 

Annie.     This  civilization,  sure 
Will  furnish  rags  and  straw  ;  in  factories 
There's  flue  enough,  on  nature's  trees  we'll  fasten, 
Defy  the  cold,  and  tilt  in  hurricanes. 
Frogs  purge  the  fountains  where  they  dwell,  'tis 

said  ; 
Can't  we  live  in  the  world  and  bless  it  too  ? 

Philo.     The  capital  and  labor  theory 
Don't  vex  the  frogs,  and  they've  no  tailor's  bills 
To  meet.     We  must  change  poetry  for  fact, 
These  arbors  leave,  the  pilgrim  staff  resume. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  53 

Annie.     Philo !  why  twist  your  cane  at  such  a 

rate  ? 
What  has  congealed  your  voice  ?     Where  tend  you 

now  ? 

Cannot  I  follow  wheresoe'er  you  go  ? 
Your  hardship,  strife,  and  sacrifice  endure  ? 
Your  philosophic  grandeur  counterfeit  ? 
Cleave  to  your  thought,  as  Ruth  did  to  Naomi  ? 
What's  poetry  but  fact  illuminated  ? 
All  natural  uses  spiritually  applied  ? 
Am  I  a  woman,  —  thence  of  none  account  ? 
I  am  not  Charles's  wife  ;  can't  I  be  yours, 
Your  thought's,  your  hope's,  your  catholic  self's? 

What  shall 
I  do  ?     Expound  me,  —  what  is  woman's  mission  ? 

Philo.     To  be  herself,  to  grow  her  natural  size, 
Nor  take  a  thought  to  add  a  cubit  more. 

Annie.     That's    transcendentalism.     Talk    sen 
sibly. 

Philo.     What  is  man's  mission  ? 

Annie.  God  to  glorify, 

And  him  enjoy  forever,  saith  the  Primer. 


54  PHILO: 

Philo.     Isn't  woman's  like  it  ? 

Annie.  Do  they  differ  none  ? 

Your  doctrine  pleases  me,  and  yet  — 

Philo.  Yet  what  ? 

Their  end  and  aim  go  on  unitedly, 
Like  two  wings  of  a  bird,  to  all  completion. 

Annie.     I'm  with  you  now,  or  you  fall  broken 
winged. 

Philo.     Man  does  his  mission  ;  woman  is  herself 
A  mission,  like  the  landscape.     Her  effect 
Lies  not  in  voting,  warring,  clerical  oil, 
Bat  germinating  grace,  forth-putting  virtue, 
The  Demosthenic  force  of  secret  worth, 
And  Pantheism  of  truth  and  holiness. 
She  gives  withholding,  draws  by  her  rebuffs  ; 
Her  figure  is  canorous,  and  her  will 
A   hammer.     Need   she    push,   when    through  all 

crowds 

She  melts  like  quicksilver  ?     The  Amazons, 
Outwent  they  the  blue-eyed  Saxonides  ? 
The  fairest  smile  that  woman  ever  smiled, 
The  softest  word  she  ever  gave  her  lover, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  55 

The  dimple  in  the  cheek,  the  eyes  enchanting, 
The  goodly-favoredness  of  hand  or  neck, 
The  emphasis  of  nerves,  the  shuddering  pulse, 
The  Psyche  veiled  beneath  the  skin,  the  might 
Of  gentleness,  the  sovereignty  of  good, 
Are  all  apostles,  by  God's  right ;  their  office, 
To  guide,  reprove,  enlighten,  and  to  save  j 
Their  field,  the  world,  now  white  for  harvesting. 
Her  mission  works  with  her  development ; 
Her  scope  to  beautify  whate'er  she  touches ; 
Her  action  is  not  running,  nor  her  forte 
To  nod  like  Jove,  and  set  the  earth  a  shaking. 
Silent  she  speaks,  and  motionless  she  moves, 
As  rocks  are  split  by  wedges  of  frore  water. 
'Tis  man's  undoing  that  makes  all  man's  doing  j 
And  in  undoing  lies  whate'er  we  do 
Woman,  undone,  is  unprobational. 
Woman  in  pureness  still 's  in  Paradise. 
Woman  is  Poetry  to  man's  dull  Prose, 
The  hopeful  Christian  to  his  Heathenism, 
And  Unity  to  his  malign  Dissent. 
When  she  the  apple  plucked,  she  kept  the  juice, 


56  PHILO: 

And  is  the  savoriness  of  all  life's  fruit. 

If  men  were  what  they  should  be,  woman  then 

Would  be  consorted  ;  now  she  reigns  alone. 

For  Isis  and  Osiris'  mutual  sway, 

And  their  indissoluble  crowns,  we  wait. 

Annie.     Some    visit   prisons,    some     in   synods 

talk, 
And  some  in  rhymes,  while  others  criticize. 

Philo.     If  woman  feels  the  sacred  fire  of  genius, 
Give  her  the  liberty  to  genius  owed. 
But  the  world's  greatness  is  diminutive, 
And  what  is  small  the  true  magnificence, 
And  a  good  mother  greater  than  a  queen. 
Woman  is  the  heart  of  the  family, 
If  man  the  head.     Good  families  would  make 
Good  towns,  a  good  republic.     Congress,  banks, 
And  tariffs  are  outpeered  by  one  sweet  home. 
Let  these  their  destiny  fulfil,  and  spread, 
As  spreads  the  air.     Then,  at  the  Rio  Grande, 
On    one    bank    Charles    should   dwell,   across    the 

stream 
His  neighbor  Carlos  live,  and  Oregon 


ANEVANGELIAD.  57 

Would  share  the  virtues  and  the  wealth  of  Maine, 

Cornelia  show  her  sons  in  every  house. 

There's  work  enough  for  any  woman,  great 

In  character  and  consequence  as  man's. 

Such  my  discourse,  long  drawn  on  the  short  text, 

1  To  be  herself,  and  grow  her  natural  size.' 

Annie.     I  shall  be  equal  then  to  you. 

Philo.  The  day 

Come  quickly  when  this  twain  one  flesh  shall  be  ! 

Annie.     Charles  is  not  happy  with  his  wife. 

Philo.  Too  true. 

'Tis  his  cross  ;  may  he  shoulder  it  with  grace. 

Annie.     I  may  join  you  in  all  your  traversings  ? 
If  not  my  mind,  my  heart  is  large  as  yours. 

Philo.     Your  eyes  with  mine,   my  own   have 

double  sight  ; 
Your  feet  with  mine,  my  own  have  double  flight. 

SCENE — The  Wor 'Id ',  passim. 

Gabriel.     Now  use  your  opportunity  ;  be  wise 
On  intimation,  let  this  spot  forescout 


58  PHILO: 

The  region  where  your  Hope  must   straightway 

march. 

Philo.     A  princely  room,  or  hall  congressional, 
With  windows  ample,  ceiling  high,  and  long 
Extent  of  pillared  cornice  ;  at  the  side 
A  throne,  on  marble  lions  couched,  that  holds 
A  princely  shape,  fair  semblance  of  a  king. 
The  floor  with  people  fills,  who  seem  to  meet 
As  old  friends  meet,  exchanging  smiles  and  bows. 
Charles.     There's  sport  here,  I'll  engage.     Let 

us  advance  ; 

But  keep  us,  guide,  intactible,  or  we 
Shall  jeopardize  our  hats,  and  Annie,  here, 
May  lose  her  shawl,  or  possibly  her  heart. 

Gabriel.     That  lofty  one  is  the  great  King,  and 

these 

His  subjects.     He  is  named  Expediency. 
These  come  to  court  nt  certain  periods, 
To  make  account,  and  entertainment  find. 

Philo.     A  company  of  Bishops,  lo  !  with  beards 
Cathedral,  gilded  mitres,  broidered  gloves, 
And  capes  all  arabesrjued.     There  clatters  in 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  59 

A  troop  of  Generals,  with  beavers  plumed, 
And  trenchant  swords,  and  large  display  of  spurs ; 
While  scarlet-robed  Judges  variegate 
The  throng. 

Charles.       Behold  the  Politicians  too  ; 
I  know  them  through  their  livery.     And  there 
Are  editors,  by  silver  collars  marked, 
And  officers  of  customs,  sleek  reviewers, 
And  sober  deacons.     I  have  seen  before 
Those  persons  ;  some  are  old,  familiar  faces. 

Philo.     Take  we  our  places  near  the  throne,  and 

thence 

Observe  all  passages.     This  is  the  hour 
Of  settlement.     The  king  examines  them. 

Charles.     Hist  you  !    A  Judge  approaches  ;  hear 
his  story. 

The  King.     What  did  you  with  the  fellow  ? 

The  Judge.  Hung  him,  Sire. 

He  was  a  young  man,  all  unused  to  crime, 
A  gentle,  personable,  courteous  youth  ;  — 
Dogs  take  these  whimseys  !   'Tis  time  of  some  one 
To  make  example,  blast  this  callowness 


60  PHILO: 

Of  sentiment,  give  pertinence  to  edicts, 

And  dignity  to  counsel ;  while,  dread  Sovereign ! 

We  stretch  thy  empire,  and  confirm  the  state. 

Gabriel.  Look  through 

That  window. 

Philo.  On  a  plain  I  see  a  gallows, 

Whereon  a  skeleton  is  swinging  ;  near, 
A  hundred  wolfish  lips  are  howling,  Praise ! 
And  miscreant  voices  Hallelujahs  blurt. 
Beyond  the  crowd  a  woman  sits  alone,  bent 
Into  her  knees,  and  stiff  as  Niobc. 

Annie.     My   heart  misgives.     Would  we  were 

home  again. 

I  know  that  woman,  she  sells  strawberries ; 
She  is  the  mother  of  the  skeleton. 

Charles.     Let  us    see  the    finale.     'Tis  a  rare 

chance. 

Now  learn  of  what  stuff  your  dear  world  is  made. 
Philo.     A  Critic  makes  report. 
The  Critic.  The  man  had  parts, 

But  he  was  free,  too  free  ;  his  elegance, 
The  oily  voice  of  foul  incendiarism : 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  61 

His  rhyme  well-paced ;   his  manner  forcible  ; 
His  motive,  youth's  Utopian  dream  of  rights. 
His  swollen  thought  disdained  the  wonted  bed, 
And  sought  new  channels,  to  our  instant  risk. 

The  King.     How  dealt  you  with  him  ? 

The  Critic.  Cut  him  down,  your  Grace. 

He    flounced    and    wriggled    like    a    new-caught 
salmon. 

The  King.     He  felt  it  deeply  ? 

The  Critic.  Deeply,  on  my  troth. 

I  took  away  some  quick  and  living  flesh, 
To  save  a  general  gangrene.     It  was  best. 

The  King.     .Undoubtedly. 

Gabriel.  Through  the  next  window  look. 

Charles.     A  poet,  in  the  fens  of  high  Parnassus  ; 
His  arms  akimbo,  and  his  jaws  awry, 
And  the  Brown  Muse  is  stuping  him  with  cam 
phor. 

I  know  his  history.     A  rural  life 
Led  he  ;  a  garden  made  his  occupation, 
His  wife,  his  love  :  in  a  hand- wagon  drew 
His  little  boy  ;  hung  olive-jars  in  trees 
6 


62  PHILO: 

For  martin  nests.     The  word  of  God  to  him 
Did  come,  as  in  the  wilderness  to  John  ; 
At  least,  he  thought  so.     Human  ills  inflamed 
His  heart.     His  generous  numbers  ran  in  tears, 
His  molten  soul  did  trickle  drops  of  fire. 
The  afflatus  took  him,  as  a  thistle  blow, 
O'er  fence  of  forms,  and  the  establishment. 
The  lost  sheep  he  left  all  to  fetch  again, 
And  undertook  to  bring  the  Right  from  Wrong, 
As  old  JEneas  did  his  father  out 
Of  Troy.     They  tripped  him  with  his  fatuous  load. 
And  there  he  is,  a  monument  to  all, 
Who  think  beyond  their  wives  and  martin  boxes. 
Philo.     A  Bishop  answers  for  his  stewardship. 
The  Bishop.     Those   writers,   Sire,   did   lacker 

well  their  doctrine, 

Enforcing  it  with  much  array  of  proof, 
And  faying  it  to  ear  of  worldly  reason. 
But  what  do  we  with  rationality  ? 
The  King.     Nothing,  just  nothing. 
The  Bishop.  So  did  we  presume. 

Unchrismed,  they  ventured  on  to  Scripture  ground, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  63 

With  Phaetonic,  wildest  hardihood  ; 
Prated  of  things  Divine  and  Absolute  ;  — 
Are  they  the  judges  of  divinity  ? 
Talked  of  Humanity,  as  if  to  us 
Humanity  was  not  intrust ;  they  culled 
From  History,  adduced  their  consciences,  -. — 
Frailest,  most  feeble  lamp  of  fallen  man,  — 
Aifected  prophecy  of  Progress,  — 

The  King.  Ah ! 

The  Bishop.     Must    grave    Antiqueness    to  the 

Present  sue, 

Confess  its  sins,  seek  absolution  ?     We 
Yield  up  our  function  to  those  parvenus  ? 
It  would  undo  society,  confound 
Existing  state,  and  order.     Plausible  truth 
Is  Satan's  arch-device,  whereby  he  leads 
The  silly  soul  astray  ;  'tis  worse  than  error, 
It  is  old  heresy's  disguise,  and  rare 
Finesse.     To  let  the  notion  go  at  large 
Among  the  flock  would  never  do  ;  and  so 
We  stamped  it  Infidelity,  as  seemed 
Expedient. 


64  P  11 1  L  O  : 

The  King.  It  was  expedient. 

Philo.     A  General,  flush  from  the  war,  draws 
near. 

The  General.     As  you   directed   us,  we   did 

bombard 

The  town,  tore  up  the  streets,  the  houses  fired, 
To  twenty  churches  gave  a  stomachful 
Of  Paixhan  shot  ;  the  citizens,  of  late 
So  irritating  in  their  insolence,  — 
Zealous  to  vindicate  our  country's  honor, 
We  let  our  faithful  mortars  settle  with, 
And  slaughtered  them  by  thousands,  knowing  well 
How  richly  they  the  whipping  had  deserved, 
And,  too,  how  quick  their  thoughts  would  be  inclined 
To  peace. 

The  King.     Why  halts  my  gallant  officer  ? 

The  General.     In  a  genteelly-furnished   cham 
ber,  where 

Her  friends  had  borne  her,  a  young  female  lay, 
Struck  by  our  shells,  her  bowels  gushing  out. 

The  King.     That  was  a  pity. 

The  General  By  her  face  my  eye 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  65 

Was  seized  as  if  some  imminent  alarm 

Had  snatched  me  ;    in   that   face    my  daughter's 

rose, 

Rose  with  dishevelled  ghastness  from  the  grave, 
Where  but  a  month  before,  with  bitter  tears, 
I  buried  her,  in  primeness  of  her  youth  ; 
As  like  as  my  two  hands. 

The  King.  Of  course,  such  things 

Occur  in  every  war. 

The  General.  The  semblance  fair 

Did  foully  work  with  me,  and  every  ounce 
Of  my  enburnished  armor  rattled  on 
My  chilliness  of  muscle  ;  when  I  would 
Have  choked  the  trouble  off,  there  glided  in 
The  father  of  the  girl,  like  sheeted  hell, 
And  looked  at  me  ;  and  as  that  Nazarene 
Stung  with  his  eye  the  perjured  friend  of  his, 
This  father's  eye  did  set  on  me,  and  clogged 
My  breathpipe,  like  a  sudden  bolted  cup  • 
And  here,  within  the  penthouse  of  my  ribs, 
Thump,  thump,  my  angered  conscience  flung, 
As  it  would  break  me  through. 
6* 


66  P  H I  L  0 : 

The  King.     Didst  thou  say  '  Conscience  '  ? 
Methought  the  word  escaped  thee. 

The  General.  I  said  it. 

The  King.     'Tis  slang,  and  most  offensive  to 

good  taste. 
The  General     Conscience  it  was,  my  life  upon 

it,  sharp  — 

The  King.     Tut,  tut !   you  make  yourself  ridic 
ulous. 

The  General.     Conscience  ! 
The  King.     I  beg  of  thee,  my  liege,  don't  speak 

so  loud  ; 

You  will  be  heard  ;  our  enemies  will  triumph, 
And  our  good  cause  be  bagged  with  consciences. 
The  General.     Conscience  !  ! 
Charles.     Here  is  a  row  !     His  Majesty  is  scared. 
The  King.     Good  friends,  our  worthy  General, 

so  much 

Exposed  of  late,  and  worn  by  frequent  marches, 
Has  fallen  in  a  fit.     Remove  him  hence, 
And  kindly  press  his  lips ;  he'll  hurt  himself 
By  screaming  ;  let  him  be  confined  within 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  67 

His  tent ;  his  frenzy  it  will  wound  all  ears 
To  hear. 

Philo.     They  bear  him  off ;  they  cannot  still 
That  voice  ! 

Charles.       Here  comes  a  culprit  to  the  bar ; 
What's  in  the  wind  ? 

The  Bailiff.     'Tis  a  Gome-outer,  good  my  lord, 

alive 
And  kicking. 

A  Voice.         Is't  an  animal  ? 

Second  Voice.  Ha  !  ha  ! 

One  of  Monboddo's  monkeys.     See  his  beard. 

The  King.     What  is  your  name  ? 

The  Culprit.  What's  yours  ? 

The  King.     Take  off  your  hat. 

The  Culprit.  Take  off 

Your  crown. 

Many  Voices.     Blasphemer !     Crucify  him  ! 

The  King.  Hear, 

O  wretched  man,  thy  sentence,  given  in  sorrow  ; 
That  you   be  scourged   with   nettle   stalks  ;    your 
tongue 


68  PHILO: 

Fed  out  to  owls ;  your  skin  be  stuffed  and  set 
In  our  menagerie  ;  your  heart  be  pricked 
On  sharpest  steeple  of  our  church  j  your  bones 
Shall  arm  each  gallant  Samson  of  our  lines. 
To  slay  your  Philistine  accomplices ; 
To  burning  hell  your  living  soul  must  go.  — 
Pkilo.     The  scene  goes  off  like  puffing  smoke, 

and  AVC, 

Dear  Annie,  stand  by  your  front  gate  unharmed. 
Charles.     That  sprite  deals  faithfully  with  you/ 

and  shows 

The  world  just  as  it  is,  by  my  mustache. 
He  pulls  up  mankind  by  the  roots,  and  says, 
1  See  here ! '  Indeed,  there  is  no  truth  or  right, 
But  only  flams,  and  priggery,  and  clink 
Of  brazen  pots.     'Tis  Policy  that  rules 
The  whole.     A  soul  is  but  an  evil  spirit, 
That  doth  the  superstitious  race  annoy  ; 
They  tweak  it  by  the  nose,  as  did  that  Monk. 
Truth's  loins  are  not  so  heavy  as  Craft's  finger. 
Make  Truth  your  candidate,  and  Policy 
Will  beat.     Expediency  doth  helm  all  movements, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  69 

All  councils  prompt ;  the  pious  conclave  sway, 

And  caucus  ;  now  lifts  its  voice  in  prayer. 

Now  capers  at  a  dance  ;  now  crisps  the  hair, 

Now  straightens  it.     The  pulpit  is  a  lime-bush, 

Your  statesmen  fob  you  off,  the  press  is  but 

A  trap  for  fools,  and  patriotism  their  whip. 

You   shake  hands,  not   with  men,  but  with  their 

feints. 

You  read,  not  men's  thoughts,  but  their  artifice. 
Texas  comes  in,  goes  out,  a  stalking  horse, 
This  indignation  at  the  wrongs  of  men 
Is  thievish,  justice  is  the  greatest  cheat 
Extant.     Now,  Philo,  what  the  chance  for  you, 
But  Abner's  death  and  burial  ?     Lay  down 
Your  crosier,  take  a  glass  of  gin  with  me. 

Annie.     What  shall  we  do  ? 

Philo.  One  day  there  came  to  me 

A  note  in  your  fair  autograph  ;  within, 
A  motto  that  ran  thus,  Hope  on,  hope  ever  ; 
And  all  enclosed  in  <  The  Bow  in  the  Cloud.' 
Another  proverb  often  we  recite, 
That  darkness  thickens  just  before  the  light. 


70  PHILO: 


SCENE — The  Woods. 

Philo.     Hail,  sacred  groves !   Hail,  sylvan  mercy- 
seat  ! 

With  cherubim  of  beach  and  oak  o'erhung. 
Here  breathes  on  us  the  Holy  Ghost,  from  deep 
And  solemn  resonance  of  rocks  and  woods. 
Here  earnest  souls  find  their  basilica, 
Adumbrant  vestiture  of  lowliness. 
From  barky  pillars  springs  aloft  a  roof 
Of  broidered  azure ;  here  is  sumptuousness 
Of  furniture,  an  altar-cloth  of  ferns 
And  berried  vines,  a  downy  couch  of  moss ; 
In  cloven  trunks  of  those  old  chestnuts  stand 
The  effigies  of  ages  dead  and  gone. 
Curtains  of  living  foliage  conceal 
Our  feathered  choir.     There  falls  a  light,  dim,  soft, 
Like  sheen  of  Hesperus  on  banks  of  snow. 
Labor's  harsh  din,  the  Dam's  commercial  roar, 
Attempered  by  the  forest,  touch  our  hearts 
In  melting  moods.     Come,  Annie,  kneel  with  me 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  71 

In  prayer ;  the  turf  our  hassock,  and  our  book 
Instinctive  sentiment  of  reverence ; 
God's  all-pervading  love  be  our  response. 
In  this  same  temple  of  the  winds  and  trees, 
He  chiefly  prayed,  He  who  our  sins  did  bear. 

Annie.     Philo,  look  here  !  Upon  a  bed  of  leaves 
A  woman  sleeps  ;  some  gentle  lady,  sooth, 
Such  beautiful  conditions  ;  haste  and  see. 
The  virgin's  face,  and  Rosalie's  fair  hand ! 
Who  can  it  be  ?     Shall  we  awaken  her? 
What  mortal  anguish  can  have  sought  repose 
In  such  a  spot  ? 

Philo.  Wait !     Gabriel  approaches, 

With  sign  of  explication. 

Annie.  What  is  this  ? 

No  girl  of  my  acquaintance  wears  a  robe 
Like  that. 

Gabriel.     The  Spirit  of  Love  you  behold. 
She's  dead  asleep,  nor  can  you  waken  her. 

Annie.     Beneath  this  eglantine  two  others  lie. 

Gabriel.  They  are  Love's  sister  spirits,  Faith  and 

Hope. 
Love,  queenly  leader  of  the  Sacred  Three, 


72  PHILO: 

Vagarious  through  the  earth,  fell  heart  heavy ; 
She  made  no  interest,  and  did  no  good, 
She  said,  and  would  be  put  to  sleep,  a  time, 
And  times,  and  half  a  time  ;  her  sisters  eke 
Did  supplicate  the  same  ;  'twas  ours  to  lay 
That  spell  upon  them. 

Annie.  Thou'st  the  countercharm  ; 

I  beg  of  thee  revive  them  ;  I  would  hear 
The  voice  of  Love,  and  learn  the  mystery 
Of  Faith  and  Hope. 

Gabriel.  Spirit  of  Love,  arise  ; 

A  mortal  love  is  ready  for  thy  hour. 

Spirit  of  Love.      Is't   morning,  Gabriel  ?     Has 

That  Day  come  ? 

You  wake  us  soon,  meseems  ;  I  just  began 
My  dream,  a  dream  of  goodness  on  the  earth. 

Gabriel.     Good  Love,  and  fairest  of  all  spiritual 

names, 

I  knew  thou  wouldst  rejoice  to  see  these  two, 
An  thou  shouldst  choose  to  fall  asleep  thereafter,  — 
Philo  and  Annie,  pledged  for  wedlock  now, 
Long  since  to  every  virtue  spoused,  arrayed 
In  wedding  garments  when  the  Lord  shall  come. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  73 

Annie.     Divinest !    kiss  these    erring  lips,  and 

like 

The  altar-coal,  it  takes  my  sin  away. 
I'd  linger  in  thine  eyes,  as  night  in  lap 
Of  day  ;  pursue  thee,  as  a  cloud  the  sun  ; 
And  when  thou  sleepest,  let  me  be  thy  dream, 
Philo  and  me  !     Art  thou  blest  Mary's  daughter  ; 
And  sister  too  of  Jesus,  holy  one, 
Begotten  of  the  same  o'ershadowing  ? 

Love.     Sweet  voice,  and  strange  as  sweet !    Not 

thus  to  be 

Addressed,  my  common  lot.     Is  the  new  tone 
Found  out,  that  every  tongue  would  melodize  ? 
Thou  art  the  very  woman  of  my  dream, 
I  trow,  and  he  was  also  there,  and  more, 
Both  men  and  women. 

Annie.  Our  good  friends,  belike. 

Love.     '  Philo  !  '  I  like  that  name,  it  is  so  near 
To  what  I  am.     Is  the  war  ended  ?    What 
New  signs  are  stirring  ? 

Gabriel.  Nay,  it  is  not  ended  j 

And  if  it  were,  all  is  not  ended,  sure. 
7 


74  P  II I  L  O  : 

Love.     Is  this  thy  welcome  ?  I  will  dream  again. 
Renew  the  untroubled  trance,  O  Gabriel. 

Annie.     O,  do  not  disallow  our  springing  joys. 

Gabriel.     Be    comforted,    good    Love ;    thou'rt 

waxen  pale, 

Paler  than  eighteen  hundred  years  ago, 
When  we  had  such  a  fete  in  Heaven,  and  thou 
Didst  start  for  Earth,  all  ardent  as  a  youth, 
Singing  and  merrymaking  all  the  way. 
Faith's  cross  is  sadly  jagged  and  weather-worn. 
Part  of  Hope's  anchor  too  I  see  is  gone. 

Spirit  of  Hope.     We  had   a  dreadful   gale  ;  all 

Christendom 

Brake  loose,  as  if  the  nether  fires  had  gone 
Delirious  ;  —  my  anchor  dragged  and  parted. 

Faith.     I  held  my  cross  in  every  church,  and 

house, 

And  vestry  room,  o'er  the  communion  table  ; 
They  trod  it  under  foot  in  broils  of  sect, 
And  knocked  it  from  my  hand  with  iron  creeds. 

Hope.  Love  said,  Return  to  heaven  ;  but  I  had  left 
One  fluke. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  75 

Faith.  My  cross  could  do  good  service  yet. 

Love.     I  was  not  well  received  on  mortal  ground. 
Allwheres  I  went,  in  Christ's  persuasive  name, 
Enforcing  love  ;  the  love  of  man  to  man, 
Of  neighborhood  to  neighborhood,  of  sect 
To  sect,  of  party  too  to  party,  of  nation 
To  nation.     Current  as  the  air,  I  would 
Have    swathed   the    earth ;    from   every   fountain 

sprung, 

That  every  man  from  his  domestic  well 
Might  draw  his  bucket  full.     But  fear  congealed 
All  hearts,  like  winter.     'Twas  not  hate,  at  first, 
Or  any  depravation  of  desire. 

Faith.     Indeed,  'twas  not.     Beside  these  fearful 

ones, 

At  their  own  firesides,  I  have  sat,  and  they 
Disowned  all  spitefulness  ;  and  earnest  spake 
Of  how  they  wished  to  love,  and  how  they  tried 
To  love,  how  they  would  give  all  they  were  worth 
To  love,  but  dare  not.     Then  I  visited 
The  other  side,  and  found  the  same  sad  tale  — 
Both  parties  feared  to  love  each  other. 


76  PHILO: 

Love.  Fear 

Produced  itself,  as  echoes  ;  fear  to  hate 
Did  lead,  as  flash  of  lightning  to  a  wince  ; 
Thence  came  detraction,  intrigue,  selfishness, 
So  on  to  rivalry  and  violence  ; 
By  all  reciprocally  felt  and  done. 
The  Catholic  the  Protestant  did  damn, 
And  back  damnations  leaped  with  quick  rebound. 
An  accidental  shot  was  fired,  and  soon 
Rejoined  a  salvo  of  artillery. 
As  show-bills,  on  their  memories,  did  men 
Paste  their  dislikes  ;  read  them  at  every  turn. 
Uranus-like,  the  offspring  of  their  souls, 
Their  sympathies,  and  unities,  and  trust 
They  buried  out  of  sight  low  in  the  earth. 
The  little  children  heard  my  word  with  joy  j 
But  ere  half  grown,  they  reached  the  atmosphere 
Of  strong  aversions  ;  so  I  left  the  church, 
And   taught   in   Sunday   schools  ;  —  'twas  sore  to 

see 

The  hawks  of  evil  swoop  the  fledgling  virtues. 
I  found  my  scholars  drafted  for  the  army  ! 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  77 

From  wars  came  governments,  and  septs,  and  clans, 
With  slaves  and  dukes  ;  official  patronage, 
Distressful  excise,  seizure  of  the  soil,  — 
Here  poverty,  there  opulence.     Henceforth 
Rivers   were   closed,    and   harbors    walled,    God's 

earth 

Was  piquetted  by  engineers,  and  states 
Were  quarantined.     In  Austria  we  found 
A  passport  requisite  ;  'twere  easier 
To  get  night's  lodgings  in  the  stars,  than  Sternburg, 
Hope  said.     The  Middle  Ages  we  survived 
As  best  we  could.     We  boarded  with  the  Dryads, 
Feeding  on  nuts  and  slippery  elm.     At  length 
The  Reformation,  bustling  with  high  promise. 
We  left  the  woods  and  hung  about  the  Church. 
Alas  the  day !  the  clash,  the  roil,  the  seam, 
Were  bad  as  ever  ;  war  of  Thirty  Years, 
And  Seven  ;  revolutions  oft  revolved  ; 
Fire,  fury,  in  an  endless  chain,  went  round 
And  round,  through  fabric  of  society. 
We  set  heart  on  America,  and  helped 
The  Quakers,  but  force  worsted  them,  anon 
7* 


78  PHILO: 

The   Indians  lost  their  friends;    and  Penn's  fair 

city 

Were  better  rendered  by  some  other  name. 
The  court  of  the  great  king,  Expediency, 
Once  in  our  wandering  flight  did  we  encounter  ; 
Then  Faith  herself,  and  Hope,  gave  up  for  lost. 
And  when  this  war  broke  out,  I  own  the  weakness, 
It  seemed  as  if  malignancy  had  shrunk 
The  heart  of  man,  and  whetted,  as  a  sword, 
His  passions ;  coiling,  like  a  snake,  about 
The  soul  of  national  advance, 
Which  it  would  crush  forever  ;  I  became 
Dejected,  and  could  not  repress  my  sorrows. 

Gabriel.     Our  sister,  Love,  a  poor  philosopher, 
Philo,  thou'lt  reckon ;  yet  in  Heaven  are  scores 
As  poor  ;  Earth  is  a  lock  whereof  they  find 
No  key. 

Faith.     In  every  human  breast,  withal, 
There's  love  enough  to  float  the  Pleiades  ; 
This  I  believe,  as  strange  as  'tis  ;  enough 
To  fill  a  city,  would  they  draw  it  off, 
As  they  have  treated  Lake  Cochituate. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  79 

We've  seen  a  million  individual  souls 
That  had  this  love,  but  knew  not  how,  or  feared, 
To  loosen  it ;  who  took  my  cross,  and  carved 
Its  image  from  the  substance  of  their  hearts, 
Then  hiding  it,  for  prudence,  or  for  shame. 

Love.     I  would  unbind  humanity,  dispark 
These  secret  treasuries  of  love,  unearth 
This  frightened  confidence,  this  needful  trust 
Bring  face  to  face  ;  take  off  the  crust  from  deeps, 
Volcanic  deeps,  of  pure  and  gentle  feeling, 
And  let  the  honeyed  lava  overspread 
The  people.     Burke  and  Robespierre  had  hearts 
Alike,  and  needs,  and  aims  ;  and  might,  as  brothers, 
Have  taken  counsel  of  each  other,  worked 
In  one  another's  gardens,  knelt  together 
At  the  same  shrine  of  universal  good. 
Calhoun  and  Garrison  are  one  in  soul, 
Though  in  each  other's  eyes  they  see  a  devil. 
'Twixt  man  and  man,  the  State  inshades  itself, 
Or  now,  the  Church,  perhaps  ;  however  birthed, 
There  is  a  dread  of  seeing  what  one  is, 
Of  being  what  one  should  be,  and  of  taking 


80  PHILO: 

What  man  himself,  or  God,  would  freely  give. 
When  one  goes  forth,  they  run  as  from  a  ghost. 
Hope.     We   fell   one  winter  day  upon  a  wood 
man  ; 

His  axe  snapped  keenly  through  the  frozen  um 
brage  ; 

His  grizzly  beard  was  tricked  with  icicles  ; 
His  flesh  was  tender  as  a  child's  ;  he  took 
Us  to  his  lodge  and  stirred  the  fire,  and  spread 
A  blouse,  whereon  we  sat.     We  talked  together,  — 
His  tough  soul  listened  as  he  were  encharmed ; 
And  O  !  to  see  his  face  perspire,  and  how 
His  spirit  came  and  went,  was  beautiful. 
He  said  our  words  did  shake  his  feelings,  like 
An  apple-tree  ;  the  ripened  fruit  fell  off  ; 
And  he  was  glad  that  any  valued  what 
He  was,  and  did,  and  inward  grew ;  that  there 
Alone,  in  winter,  the  Beatitudes 
Were  precious  to  him,  as  his  daily  bread, 
And  that  he  had  four  stalwart  sons,  just  such 
As  he,  who  worked  with  him,  and  felt  with  him  ; 
Then  absent  hauling  timber  to  the  Lake. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  81 

Faith.     There   are  some   clergymen  —  I  know 

them  well  — 

Having  Christ's  image  and  his  superscription  ; 
Great  souls,  at  sea,  whose  coming  into  port 
The  world  may  look  for  by  the  first  fair  wind. 

Hope.     Dost    recollect    that    Frenchman,   who 

received 

And  treated  us  so  kindly,  owned  himself 
A  pupil  in  the  school  of  love,  and  hoped 
That  we  would  call  and  see  him  frequently  ? 

Faith.     We  visited  a  college,  where  were  minds 
On  tiptoe,  looking  for  the  breaking  East. 

Love.     How  certain  Theologicals  replied 
That  we  were  wanton  Antinomians, 
Had  best  be  off,  and  pelted  us,  and  made 
Us  run  for  life,  I  think  you've  not  forgotten. 

Faith..   Nor  how  a  sculptor   sculptured   us   in 

marble, 

Nor  how  a  poet  wrote  us  gilt-edged  sonnets ; 
A  preacher  spake  of  us  in  metaphor, 
A  farmer  let  us  ride  upon  his  cart, 
A  ferryman  took  us  gratis  o'er  a  river, 


82  PHILO: 

A  milliner  copied  us  in  three  rag  dolls, 
A  noble  lady  asked  us  to  a  party, 
Because  we  were  so  pretty,  so  she  said, 
And  let  you  kiss  her  baby,  Love,  declared 
Our  looks  betrayed  some  princely  lineage, 
And  pity  'twas  our  fortunes  had  decayed. 
A  little  boy  gave  us  a  pint  of  beech-nuts ; 
The  Sheik  of  Tripoli  on  each  bestowed 
A  cashmere  shawl ;  the  Blackfoot  Indians  held 
A  council  with  us,  said  our  word  was  good ; 
An  old  man  told  us  we  were  smart  young  girls. 
Now,  Sister  Love,  do  not  forget  these  things. 

Love.     Dear,  bright-eyed  Faith,  I'm  not  insensi 
ble 

To  what  thou  speakest,  less  to  what  thou  art  ; 
A  phosphorescent  root  that  lights  the  dusk 
And    lonesome    hour.      When   we    have  •  cuddled 

down 

Together  in  the  storm,  thy  lively  mood 
Has  kept  us  warm,  and  sometimes  made  us  gay. 
I've  sailed  upon  an  iceberg,  till  it  reached 
The  tropics,  where  it  melted.     When  will  melt 


ANEVANGELIAD.  83 

These  frozen  nations,  whose  collisions  dire, 

And  booming  imminence,  doth  fright  the  earth ! 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness  shines  cold  and  dull 

Through  wintry  fogs  of  prevalent  decline. 

The  best  of  men  do  button  up  their  coats, 

Increase  their  wood  piles  ;  there's  no  heat  abroad. 

Revivalists  but  make  a  muddy  March. 

Poets,  will  they  not  rise,  the  Prodigals, 

And  go  unto  their  Father  ?     The  Nine  Girls, 

How  long  shall  they  supplant  the  Son  of  God, 

Phoebean  brooks  be  sought,  the  Well  of  Life 

Given  to  cant  and  the  conventicle  ? 

Must  Shelley's  great  heart  perish,  as  a  waif, 

With  none  to  save,  and  multitudes  to  tear  ? 

We  found  him,  like  a  pear  in  middle  winter, 

Neglected  on  the  tree,  stiff,  shrivelled,  while 

His  fellows  lay  in  warm  affections  garnered. 

We  would  have  cheered  him,  but  we  came  too  late 

And  could  no  more  than  shrive  his  soul  for  heaven 

Has  Woman  no  more  excellent  device 

Than  gossip,  worsted  work,  and  drilling  ears  ? 

Shall  the  essays  of  Art  and  Eloquence 


84  PHILO: 

Never  surpass  the  gelid,  brittle  foam, 

That  rises  through  the  ice-flaws  in  the  river  ? 

O,  would  the  heart  of  human  kind  refund 

The  pearls,  and  gems,  and  golden  argosies 

Absorbed  within  its  depths  !     The  Holy  Ghost, 

Christ,  Beauty,  Prophecies,  the  stars,  the  flowers, 

The  dreams  of  youth,  and  genius'  affluence, 

Impulse  of  virtue,  all  has  man  received, 

The  largesses  of  God,  his  new  year's  gifts, 

To  be  accounted  for.     I  pardon  much, 

And  more  extenuate.     There  are  some  things, 

Here  and  hereafter,  irremissible. 

I  would  join  man  and  man,  fold  realm  in  realm, 

Reticulate  the  surface  of  the  earth 

With  chains  of  loving  minds,  all  hand  in  hand  ; 

Give  slips  of  heavenly  bloom  to  every  child, 

While  Faith  and  Hope  should  teach  the  culturing ; 

Sin-buried  life  exhume  :  with  silver  trump 

Should  be  announced  the  Resurrection  Morn  ; 

The  disembodied  Soul  of  Goodness  find 

Its  heaven  here,  new  heaven  promised  long.  — 

Where  now  ?     The  sky  is  dark,  and  Hope,  I  know, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  85 

Is  tired.     Shall  we  not  sleep  a  while,  collect 
Our  wandering  energies,  or  dream,  forsooth, 
Merganthum-like,  that  shuts  in  lowery  weather  ? 
Annie.     That  may  not  be  ;  thou  wouldst  impose 

regrets 

Perdurable  on  transports  of  the  hour. 
Go  hence  with  me,  and  make  my  home  thy  home. 
Dear  Love,  have  I  one  selfish  thought,  or  one 
Untoward  character,  or  one  impure 
Respect  of  life,  or  any  dissonance 
Of  universal  harmony,  I  bare 
My  soul  to  thee  ;  cleanse  me  throughout.     Faith, 

Hope, 

A  presence  most  desired,  come  dwell  with  us  ; 
Sit  in  my  chamber,  read  my  books,  and  play 
To  me,  for  ye  are  musical ;  my  friends, 
Not  great,  but  good,  you  would  be  pleased  to  know. 
Love.     Annie,  accepting  soul,  do  not  be  pained 
For  us  ;  no  cold,  or  damp,  or  pestilence 
Can  reach  us,  nor  doth  solitude  affray. 
Whom  we  obey,  in  whom  your  ransom  lies, 
He  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.     Go  home  ; 
8 


86  PHILO: 

We  will  see  you  erelong,  and  your  good  friends. 

Having,  you  take  us  ;  cherishing,  we  dwell 

With    you.      Oar    spirit,    not    our    persons,  you 

desire. 

Possessed  of  these,  we  are  your  guests  and  self, 
Our  essence  fused  in  all  humanity, 
Our  voices  heard  on  every  tongue,  our  eyes 
Beaming  from  every  eye,  and  in  the  street 
The  Loving,  Faithful,  Hopeful,  walking,  then 
Vanish  our  forms,  ourselves  remain. 

SCENE  —  Regions  below. 

Philo.     I  wish  we  had  a  lantern  ;  let  me  cut 
A  stick  and, use  the  blind  man's  spectacles. 
Were  I  a  practised  beau,  I  might  play  off 
My  arts  among  these  slime-pits  to  advantage. 
The  queachy  bog  is  troublesome  of  step 
As  if  our  way  were  paved  with  sacred  eggs. 
The  darkness  deepens,  deepens  too  the  path  ; 
And  while  I  guard  my  feet,  my  head  is  thumped  ; 
With  juts  above,  and  ruts  below.  I  tire  ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  87 

The  bank  is  full  of  newts,  I'll  not  sit  there.  — 
Ho  !  Gabriel,  I'm  fairly  cast. 

Gabriel  Not  hurt  ? 

Philo.     This  frog  is  hurt,  or  there's  no  obvious 

dint 

In  sevenscore  pounds  of  doubts  and  fears,  the  which 
I  am.     I  pray  thee,  ease  me.     "What  place  this  ? 

Gabriel     Forward,  Philo,  forward. 

Philo.  Dost  revive 

In  me  that  Florentine  ?     A  spider's  nest 
My  face  has  stumbled  on,  or  gummy  gowl 
That  sentinels  these  shadows  strikes  athwart 
My  progress  ;  — which  is  it  ?     What  subtile  stings 
Are  ambushed  here,  that  sly  into  my  pores, 
And  peristaltic  prickle  in  my  skin  ; 
Mosquito  bites,  or  poisonful  mercury  ?  — 
Dost  thou  take  me  to  Hell !     Ensconced  in  flames, 
Below,  see  there,  a  dozen  spectres  glide ! 
What  meanest  ?  —  I  smell  sulphur  !  —  O  my  God ! 
Have  we  not  Hell  enough  above  !     I  sink, 
Hold  me,  the  ooze  is  hot  as  fire. 

Gabriel  On,  on. 


88  i'  ii  i  L  u : 

Philo.     Thou  art  not  kind  ;  dost  not  know  me. 

Canst  think 

I  have  a  wish  to  see  that  place,  converse 
With  Him,  arch  enemy  of  man  ?     Must  I 
Behold  the  blistering  of  souls,  and  hear 
The  shrieks  of  exiles  on  the  burning  shores, 
Eternal  torments  reconnoitre  ?     Nay, 
If  such  things  be,  I  would  not  look  on  them. 
I  hoped  to  get  to  Heaven,  and  all  my  bent, 
To  aid  some  others  in  like  hope,  my  eye 
Veiling  to  sin's  nefandous  end.     I  had 
As  lief  be  damned  as  see  another  damned. 

Gabriel     Be  not  alarmed.     I'll  guarantee  thee 

safe. 

Thou  saidst  thou  wouldst  see  all  that  should  be  seen. 
Philo.     And  that  I  will ;  we  seem  to  grope  along 
Through  cellar  of  a  cloud,  it  is  so  dark, 
And  there  is  little  to  be  seen.     The  smell ! 
All  horrors  swarm  to  that  one  sense. 

Gabriel  A  door  5 

Pass  through. 

Philo.        The  Porter's  lodge  of  rny  great  dread  ! 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  89 

I  see  a  Form ;  the  darkness  hides  its  features ;  — 

Or  it's  a  beard  ?  is  it  some  strange  effect 

Of  rancor  and  satanic  mood  of  mind, 

That  courses  down  his  visage  as  a  shadow  ? 

Gabriel.  Speak  to  him. 

Philo.     Who  or  what  art  thou  ? 

The  Form.  Who'm  I  ? 

I  am  the  Devil  j  don't  you  know  me,  eh  ? 
You  are  the  first  one  that  can  say  as  much. 

Philo.     Jesu  have  mercy  ! 

The  Devil.  I  suppose  I'm  rough, 

And  quite  unmannered,  or  I'd  rise  and  give 
You  seats. 

Philo.  The  hypocrite  !  Is  that  his  way  ? 
Hath  his  quick-witted  hate  found  out  new  lures 
And  set  fresh  baits  for  man  ?  What  art  thou  doing  ? 

The  Devil.     I'm  culling  hearts. 

Philo.  What,  human  hearts  ! 

The  Devil.  None  else. 

Philo.     Unto  their  final  state  dost  here  assort  ? 

The  Devil.     Always. 

Philo.  Fathers  and  sons,  the  beautiful, 

8* 


90  PHILO: 

Dost  catch  at  all  alike,  with  pity  none, 
And  no  regrets  ? 

The  Devil     'Tis  all  as  one  to  me. 
After  a  man's  relations,  or  his  looks, 
I  never  ask.     The  fire  makes  no  distinction. 

Philo.     Father  Almighty  !  must  I  then  believe 
That  malice,  unprovoked,  deliberate, 
Exists  ?     Without  incentive  or  pretext, 
In  stark  simplicity,  hath  such  a  place 
In  this  thy  universe  ?  —  How  feelest  thou 
About  the  Fall  ? 

The  Devil         It  hurt  me  grievously. 

Philo.     What  moves  thee  to  thy  conduct  ? 

The  Devil  Moves  me,  dolt  ? 

Must  I  not  earn  my  salt  ?     Would  you  starve  me  ? 
I  have  seen  you  before,  and  know  your  game, 
Philo  ;  you  want  to  spoil  my  business,  boy. 

Philo.     Defend  me,  Gabriel  ;  he  menaces 
A  blow. 

The  Devil     Be  just  with  me,  'tis  all  I  ask. 
You  tax  on  me  all  mischief  of  the  earth  ; 
If  preachers  bastardize,  the  Devil  did  it ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  91 

If  converts  fall  from  grace,  the  Devil  did  it ; 
If  men  make  rum,  besure,  the  Devil  does  it ; 
I'm  somewhat  dirty,  that  I  own,  but  that's 
Because  they  throw  a  deal  of  dirt  at  me. 
I'm  getting  old,  and  grow  a  little  crabbed, 
But  1  have  had  rough  passages  in  life. 

Philo.     As  well   one   might,  who   goes   round 

seeking  what 
He  may  devour. 

The  Devil.         That's  false. 

Philo.  Do  you  not  hang 

Upon  the  Church,  feed  wicked  thoughts  to  men, 
Gild  Lust,  fair  Virtue  cheapen,  Saints  decoy, 
With  Sinners  covenant,  and  those  whom  God 
Permits  to  fall  take  up,  and  have  your  will 
With  them  ? 

The  Devil.     I've  been  in  kitchens,  held  a  chat 
With  servant  folk  ;  —  was  that  bad  ?  They  gave  me 
Anatomies  of  geese  and  mouldy  cheese. 

Philo.     What  means  this  most  unearthly  stench  ? 

The  Devil.     'Tis  genuine  Christian  stench,  each 
pound  of  it ; 


92  PHILO: 

There's  not  a  Turk  or  Hindoo  in  the  lot. 

I  call  it  fresh  ;  it  came  in  yesterday 

From  Yera  Cruz.     May  be,  you  smell  the  works  ; 

I'm  trying  out  a  hatch  in  the  next  room. 

Just  shut  the  door,  if  you  dislike  the  steam. 

Philo.     You  are  a  devil  quite  original ! 
Did  you  not  tempt  the  blessed  Son  of  God  ? 

The  Devil     God   knows    I   didn't,  and   yet   I 

dealt  with  him 
As  has  gone  hard  with  me. 

Philo.  What  is't  you  say  ? 

The  Devil     One  day,  my  boy,  my  epileptic  boy, 
He  healed,  and  I  became  his  ready  friend. 
The  boy  flung  palm-twigs  in  his  way  when  he, 
The  last  time,  came  up  to  the  Holy  City. 
I,  too,  Hosanna  cried.     Our  leading  men, 
Meanwhile,  did  shrug  at  him,  and  clutched  their 

beards 

As  he  went  by,  threw  dust  upon  the  Temple 
Because  of  him,  and  of  Beelzebub 
And  sorcery  they  whispered  in  our  ears. 
Then  hurrying  to  the  synagogue,  they  read 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  93 

The  curse  of  those  that  dared  consort  with  him, 

And  blew  the  candles  out.     Scared  at  the  dark, 

The  people's  souls  fell  dark  and  shivery ; 

And  when  they  urged  his  death  upon  our  fears, 

I  blared  out,  '  Crucify  him,  crucify  ! ' 

Among  the  first  of  those  poltroons.     Erelong 

I  heard  his  pale  lips  cry,  <  Forgive  them,  Father  ! ' 

And  fell,  as  one  dead,  and  when  I  awoke, 

I  was  a  wanderer  upon  the  earth. 

Philo.     You  are  the  Wandering  Jew  ! 

The  Devil.  They  call  me  Devil  ; 

I  know  no  other  name.     Adultery 
And  murder  are  committed  near  my  house, 
I  have  no  hand  in't  j  byblows  at  my  doors 
Are  left,  I  take  them  to  the  Hospital, 
And  get  a  curse  for  every  one.     Call  me 
A  witness  in  your  courts,  I'd  tell  some  things 
To  make  you  stare  ;  they  dare  not  do't. 

Philo.  Weren't  you 

At  bottom  of  the  Salem  witchcraft  ? 

The  Devil  No  : 

I  hid  a  couple  of  old  women  whom 


94  PH1LO: 

They  sought  to  hang.     War  gives  me  work  enough, 

To  follow  battles,  cut  away  the  hearts 

Of  those  that  fall.     I  am  a  soap-monger, 

And  out  of  human  hearts  an  article 

I  manufacture  said  to  be  quite  nice. 

When  business  drives,  at  any  time,  I  like 

Plenty  of  orphans  for  two  cents  a  week 

To  help  me.     Oregon,  somehow,  I  lost  ; 

But  Mexico  is  rich,  what  one  might  call 

A  first-rate  speculation. 

Philo.  You  have  seen 

Some  hard  times  ? 

The  Devil.     In  Napoleon's  day,  the  wolves 
I  fought  to  make  my  portion  of  the  spoils. 

Philo.     I  mean,  the  world  hasn't  always  used 
you  well. 

The  Devil.     It  gets  as  good  as't  gives  ;  there's 

no  love  lost 

Between  us.     Preachers  take  me  off ;  I  draw 
Their  pictures  here  in  charcoal  on  the  wall. 
I  sometimes  lack  for  kindling  stuff ;  but  soon, 
They  say,  the  Church  will  fall  ;  I  calculate 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  95 

On  getting  all  the  lawn  and  pulpit  cushions. 
These  burn  like  pitch.     I  have  had  gutter-fights 
With  swine,  field-fights  with  army  followers, 
In  my  day  ;  conclave-fights  with  cardinals, 
Gate-fights  with  beggars,  grave-fights  with  hyenas, 
All  for  the  spoils.     You  never  saw  me,  eh  ? 

Philo.     Never. 

The   Devil.  Charles  visits  me,   reports  the 

news ; 

He's  not  afraid  of  an  old-fashioned  bout ; 
Drinks  with  a  relish,  as  he  loved  to  drink  ; 
He's  back  and  edge  a  man,  a  man 
Besides  of  principle,  no  whitewash  there  ; 
He  speaks  his  mind,  and  gives  the  Devil  his  due. 

Philo.     What  light  like  an  intense  but   veiled 

fire 

Appeared,  as  we  came  down  the  gully  ?     What 
That  perspicable  brimstone  ? 

The  Devil.  Just  below, 

An  iron  foundry  stands,  and  hereabouts 
Are  sulphur  springs.     The  foundry  goes  all  night, 
On  railroad  orders.     Freights  are  lessening, 


96  P  H  I  L  0  : 

And  that,  in  my  line,  is  a  consideration  ; 

Though    some    folks    Teckon    the    supplies    will 

fail  ; 

There'll  be  less  fighting.     As  you  choose,  'tis  one 
To  me.     I  mean  to  eat  an  honest  crust  ; 
I'll  not  strip  graves,  nor  injure  living  men. 
I  have  a  human  shape,  no  human  soul  ; 
If  I  should  starve,  would  any  care  ?     Tell  Charles 
To  come,  I'm  getting  blue.  — 

Philo.  By  leaps,  not  steps. 

Let  us  retrace  that  most  unroyal  road.  — 
Unriddle  me,  instructor  mine,  is  there 
No  other  Devil  ? 

Gabriel.  I  have  gone  throughout 

Creation,  as  a  draughtsman,  made  survey 
Of  boundaries  of  all  intelligence, 
And  have  not  seen  another. 

Philo.  What  did  tempt 

The  Son  of  God  ? 

Gabriel.  As  you  are  tempted,  so 

Was  he,  yet  with  no  sin.     Pride,  Avarice, 
He  put  behind  him. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  97 

Philo.  Did  not  Angels  fall  ? 

Gabriel.     Could  Faith,  or  Hope,  or  Love,  aban 
don  God  ? 

Or  Light  from  the  bed  of  the  sun  elope  ? 
Shall  bees  their  nectared  cups  exchange  for  pith 
Of  wormwood  ?     Can  the  sparrow  build  her  nest 
Beneath  the  gulfy  dam  ;  ice  be  annealed 
By  fire  ?     Shall  order  of  the  universe 
Prefer  confusion,  yell  as  yells  a  mob, 
The  fair-eyed  orbs  each  other's  beauty  rend, 
Seraph  with  seraph  humshly  contend  ? 

SCENE  —  P kilo's  Garden. 

Philo  and  Charles. 

Charles.     They've  chosen  you  a  Deacon,  Phi 
lo,  so 
The  street-tale  goes. 

Philo.  'Tis  true,  I  have  become 

A  member  of  the  sacred  staff,  and  hold 
An  office  that  much  worthier  have  filled. 
9 


98  P  H I L  0 : 

Charles.     Your  hopes,  belike,  are   finding  pat 
ronage  ? 

Philo.     They  have  not  given  up  the  search. 

Charles.  The  oafs, 

I  pity  them.     Why,  Deacon,  be  a  fool  ? 
The  earth  has  slipped  from  memory  of  God  ; 
'Tis  full  of  worms ;  the  Millerites  propose 
To  bake  it  over,  as  a  florist  does. 
Why  not  join  them  ?    Or,  if  you  choose,  preach  Hell, 
Wood  up  that  fire,  it  may  attract  the  moths 
And  vermin  from  society,  and  singe 
The  mischief  out  of  them.     All  customs,  laws, 
Likings,  are  held  by  wrongs,    like  an  old  spike, 
Through  plank  and  beam  they've  rusted  in,  nor  can 
You  draw  them,    haply  break  the  head,  and  leave 
The  matter  worse  than  if  you  had  not  touched  it. 
The  Church  is  only  a  dog  in  the  church, 
That  makes  one  laugh.     There  is  no  proper  blood 
In  human  arteries,  but  like  our  wines, 
A  high-spiced  drug  ;  and  what  you  call  a  soul, 
Is  steam  and  gas,  that  drives  the  faculties, 
Explodes  at  last,  and  burns  itself  to  ashes. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  99 

Philo.     Charles,  this  is  not  yourself,  at  least  not 

what 

You  used  to  be,  nor  what  you  thought  to  be, 
And  more,  I  think,  than  what  you  love  to  be. 
It  is  not  language  of  our  former  days, 
When  we  were  young  together,  you  as  young 
As  I.     A  patriarchal  age  of  gloom, 
Distrust,  and  acidness  has  crept  on  you. 
My  heart  is  hale  and  thrifty  ;  worms  indeed 
Have    sapped  the  force    of  yours.      Let   me    not 

seem 

Impertinent,  or  meddlesome  ;  but  yet, 
For  old  acquaintance's  sake,  and  for  that  love 
Which  you  have  always  borne  to  me,  in  name 
Of  virtue  which  I  know  you  reverence, 
For  your  own  peace'  sake,  that  is  dear  to  me, 
Tell  me,  why  are  you  thus  ?     If  friend  to  friend 
May  ever  come,  or  curious  concern 
A  secret  hail,  that  drifts  distressful  by, 
And  go  on  board  and  ask,  What  cheer  ?  allow 
It  now.     Your  sorest  points  can  bear  these  gloves, 
While  I  in  all  observe  the  rules  of  tried 


100  PHILO: 

And  utmost  confidence.     If  you  have  gained 

A  title  to  concealment,  fairly  won, 

For  your  own  use  reserved,  and  shelfed  away, 

I'll  not  purloin  it.     A  man's  heart,  and  house, 

His  watch  and  castle  are  ;  no  enemy 

Can  enter,  nor  a  friend,  except  on  summons. 

When,    Charles,    your   little    girl    fell   sick,    your 

house 

Was  muffled  deep  in  silence  and  in  dread, 
No  living  person,  me,  nor  Annie,  nor 
Our  Pastor  would  you  suffer  near ;  and  yet 
Our  thoughts  kept  sentry  o'er  your  long  distress  ; 
And  when  you  buried  the  loved  one,  alone, 
Without  a  book,  or  bell,  or  prayer,  we  formed 
The  distant  sad  procession,  saw  you  close 
The  grave,  and  knew  each  shovelful  of  earth 
Was  taken  from  your  heart,  and  our  hearts  ached 
To  fill  the  vacuum,  with  kindest  words 
Your  shattered  spirits  bracing.     You  repulsed 
All  overture,  you  were  master  of  yourself, 
Or  slave  of  fretful  bias,  thrusting  us 
To  distance  of  immitigable  pain. 


AN  EVANGELIA'D!  101 

Charles.     Despair  doth  sometimes  traitor  prove 

to  pride, 

And  will,  and  strong  intrenchments  of  the  soul, 
And  yields  what  one's  own  wishes  fain  would  keep. 
I  know  you  for  a  noble  conqueror, 
Philo,  one  who  will  not  misuse  success. 
Now  of  myself  •  —  but  no,  I  do  not  like 
Myself  enough  to  give  it  you  to  taste. 
Suppose  a  case,  as  your  dear  Parson  says, 
And  take  a  hypothetic  man  ;  let  him 
Be  young,  as  all  men  are  once  in  their  lives ; 
A  juicy  heart,  like  ripe  grapes  in  the  cluster, 
Give  him,  and  spirits  mantling  as  a  cup 
Of  ale,  much  hopefulness  and  sunny  trust, 
An  intellectual  thirst,  aesthetic  moods, 
An  average  organism,  and  circumstance  ; 
His  faith  not  set,  but  no  blasphemer  he. 
Next,  let  him  love  a  woman.     i  Why  ? '  ask  you  ? 
For  love's  sake,  as  he  rationally  might, 
For  that  epiphany  of  mellowness, 
And  truth,  and  sanctitude,  and  every  sort 
Of  pleasant  thing,  a  young  man  's  fain  to  see 
9* 


102  PHILO: 

In  a  young  woman,  shining  his  ideal, 

His  rougher  self  revealed  in  her  soft  grace, 

As  smelt-catchers  look  picturesque  in  mist. 

In  brief,  he  loves  her  for  her  loveliness ; 

She  dances  finely,  smiles  enchantingly, 

Talks  gushingly,  rays  out  like  an  old  painting  ; 

She  plays  and  sings,  all  toppingly  performed ; 

He  sees  her  at  a  ball-room  first,  and  then 

At  home  ;  perpetual  beauty  reigns  throughout. 

He  marries  her,  and  then  —  what  then  ?     His  wife 

He  finds  a  bigot  to  some  creed,  and  slave 

Of  policy.     An  unexpected  crew 

Of  saintly  gossipers  beset  the  house, 

And  she's  afraid  of  them,  and  her  brain  teems 

With  sullens.     Unenforced  and  common  tests 

Suffice  to  spoil  that  pretty  scheme  of  love 

And  life,  and  he  concludes  that  in  himself 

Lay  his  ideal,  not  in  her.  —  as  war 

Turns  out  to  raw  recruits.     The  mansion,  rich 

With  furniture,  and  exquisite  detail 

Of  comfort,  has  a  kitchen,  cold,  and  rank, 

And  vixenish.     She  was  no  hypocrite  ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  103 

In  heyday  of  her  love  and  flush  of  youth, 

She  felt  what  she  expressed  j  as  sailors  weep 

In  theatres,  and  glass  doth  glisten  sharp 

As  diamonds.     Who  blames  her  for  her  teeth, 

Or  showing  them  ?     The  novelty  of  love, 

As  scattering  com  from  bush  and  barn  will  bring 

The  eager  chickens  chirping  to  your  hand, 

What  depth  she  had,  brought  to  the  surface,  where 

It  chirped  a  while,  but  when  the  sober  hours 

Of  life  arrived,  'twas  gone.     In  calico, 

The  muslin  sylphid  to  a  dowdy  shrank. 

Our  hypothetic  man  has  lost  his  heart, 

He  gave  it  all  away,  without  reversion, 

Or  1  ien ;  all  his  wealth  in  one  sweet  moon 

Is  spent,  and  lie  is  poor  as  poor  can  be, 

And  there's  no  bankrupt  act  for  his  relief. 

What  should  he  do,  and  how  behave  himself? 

Philo.     Let  c  Woman  in  the  Nineteenth  Century ' 
Give  answer  if  she  can. 

Charles.  Of  whom  I  spake, 

His  being  wasted,  as  the  Indians,  chills 
And  fever  supervened  of  deep  chagrin, 


104  PHILO: 

And  disappointment  sore.     And  in  his  mind 
Rose  thoughts,  a  mongrel  tribe  of  questionings, 
All  goblin  doubts  and  fears,  nor  had  he  power 
To  lay  them.     His  vocation  lost  its  charm, 
While    drink,    strong     drink,    grew     wonderfully 

pleasing. 

He  kept  his  feelings  to  himself,  as  doth 
The  sun  its  spots ;  the  sickness  noiseless  spread, 
Until  it  ashened  him  from  head  to  foot. 
Of  this  pair  children  came,  and  one  of  them 
A  daughter,  who,  as  I  have  understood, 
That  father's  womanly  ideal  budded, 
Revived  the  image  of  his  former  thought  ; 
In  whom  the  hope  that  he  had  flung  away 
Came  back  again,  on  his  redeeming  bent, 
Returning  grace  of  fallen  saints,  and  he 
Did  welcome  it,  and  month  by  month  it  grew  ; 
His  health  and  heart  grew  with  it ;  on  his  knee 
He  rocked  the  vision  of  his  youth,  and  heard 
Its  voice  as  from  some  Eden  he  had  lost, 
Until,  my  God  !  it  sickened,  as  it  caught 
Infection  from  his  breath,  arid  in  his  arms 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  105 

It  died.     Back  in  the  crib,  where  it  was  wont 
To  sleep,  he  laid  it ;  fell  his  strength,  he  could 
Not  hold  it.     Fleetingly,  a  sunbeam  lit 
Upon  the  sightless  orbs  of  that  lost  bliss  ;  — 
He  staggered  to  a  chair,  blind,  blind  as  night. 
This  father  was  not  mad,  but  calm,  and  cold ; 
He  felt  his  veins  ice  up  in  that  death  shade  ; 
The  freezing  of  his  heart  went  on  until 
It  burst  its  socket.     On  his  bed  he  lay 
Beside  the  child,  abandoned  to  his  fate. 
There  flocked  in  dress-makers  and  milliners, 
And  monkish  faces  ;  there  was  ghostly  gibe 
Of  chastisement,  and  just  desert  of  sin, 
With  interludes  of  band-boxes  and  crape. 
And,  so  the  story  goes,  that  brutal  man 
Drave  off  attendance  and  condolency, 
And,  maugre  oh's  and  hem's,  with  his  own  hands 
Buried  his  dead.     Across  the  grave  he  threw 
One  gasp,  expiring  sign  of  manly  feeling,  — 
That  gasp  did  Philo  echo ! 

Philo.  Your  conceit 

But  colors  what  has  long  been  palpable, 


106  PHILO: 

And  what,  to  tell  the  truth,  all  busy  Fame 
Has  bruited  as  she  list.     So  plain  the  fact, 
It  seemed  a  beaten  track  unto  your  heart, 
Excepting  that  you  never  were  at  home 
To  callers,  closeted  in  strong  reserve. 
My  friendliness,  and  Annie's  wish,  ere  now, 
Had  spoken,  if  such  wish  were  not  dismayed 
By  grimncss  of  your  desperation.     We 
Took  note  of  that  fair  child,  returnina;  Sfleams 

o    O 

Of  gladness  in  your  countenance  beheld, 

And  talked  with  one  another  of  the  good, 

The  happy  Providence.     And  we  have  made 

Our  visits  to  the  grave,  where  Annie  set 

A  rose,  a  monthly  blooming  rose.     Our  faith 

In  silence  of  the  universe,  has  heard 

Its  voice,  and  seen  the  spirit  of  your  child 

Take  beauty  from  the  beautiful  of  God, 

As  a  Madonna  from  a  Raphael, 

And  we  could  weep  the  blindness  of  your  faith. 

But,  Charles,  all  is  not  lost,  albeit  the  heart 

Is  lost.     There's  still  a  remnant.     Nature  lives, 

And  all  her  miracles  survive,  and  might, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  107 

Might  immarcessible  of  one's  own  substance  ; 

And  hope  some  silent  vestiges  has  left 

Within  your  soul,  gigantic  vestiges, 

Like  those  great  bird  tracks  in  the  rock,  that  look 

Not  backwards,  as  you  think,  but  forwards, 

To  that  Young  World  of  which  we  dream.     Is  not 

Humanity  a  field  worth  your  attempt  ? 

Your  house  and  home,  have  they  received  all  care 

And  proper  thought  ?     Lies  there  no  hidden  good, 

As  gold  in  sterile  regions  most  abounds  ? 

Herein  I  trespass.     Is  there  not  a  God  ? 

And  is  not  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God  ? 

I'll  not  tax  you  with  infidelity 

To-day,  save  that  I  wish  you  were  a  Christian. 

Charles.    I  wish  so  too  ;  had  I  your  faith,  I  were  ; 
But  there  the  matter  binds  beyond  your  power 
To  ease  it. 

Philo.         I've  this  right ;  to  criticize 
Your  taste  ;  that  soap-monger,  and  cups  with  him, 
What  mean  such  things  ? 

Charles.  You've  scared  that  secret  up  ! 

Ha !  ha !    He  is  a  hearty,  jolly  imp, 


108  PHILO: 

A  soulless  piece  of  flesh,  that  lives  on  pride 

And  ignorance  of  men,  like  Kings  and  Popes. 

They  lead,  he  closes  up  the  march  of  evil ; 

That's  all  the  difference  'twixt  them  and  the  Devil. — 

But  much  is  lost  if  so  the  heart  be  lost, 

More  than  you  know.     In  me  the  fire  has  run 

So  deep,  the  roots  and  utmost  filaments 

Are  turned  to  ashes.     You  cannot  expect 

Corn  crops,  or  lawns.     If  I  grow  any  thing, 

What  but  wild-lettuce  shall  it  be  ?     Was  I 

So  weak  ?     Did  woman  failing  spoil  my  force  ? 

That  Siebenkas  went  dead  before  his  time  ; 

One  peg  alone  Othello  had  whereon 

To  hang  a  hope.     I've  little  wish  for  life, 

As  children  loathe  the  breast  wherefrom  they  once 

Are  rudely  torn. 

Philo.  These  premises  reveal 

Woman's  true  grandeur,  and  her  excellence, — 
Man  small  without  her,  loss  of  her  his  ruin. 

Charles.     I    own    the    inference  ;    but  let  that 

pass.  — 
I  bear  the  world  no  ill  ;  let  me  be  free 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  109 

To  make  up  mouths  at  it ;  the  railroad  train 
Roars  through  the  wood,  the  cricket  sits  and  sings, 
And  no  whit  minds  it.     I  can  whistle  yet, 
Guide  you  the  course  of  Progress  where  you  list. 
I  have  a  horse,  well-winded,  fit  for  gig 
Or  saddle ;  take  your  mode,  leave  me  to  mine. 
Philo.     You  trifle,  Charles. 
Charles.  Upon  the  cataract 

The  spray  may  frisk.     Those  depths  of  which  you 

speak. 

I  dare  not  sound.     Let  me  sport  in  the  sun, 
Till   night    comes,    termless,    rayless,    smothering 

night, 
That  gathers  me  unto  my  child  forever. 

Philo.     And  depths    there  are  of  thought,  and 

feeling,  God. 

And  immortality,  and  earthly  hopes, 
Wherein  I  wish  I  could  transfuse  a  light 
And  charm,  that  should  attract  you  into  them ; 
Till  in  yourself  all  greatness  should  revive, 
And  you  possessed  an  Object  worth  your  genius. 
A  miracle  is  less  than  Christ,  from  whom 
10 


110  PHILO: 

Outflowed  the  miracle,  as  smiles  from  joy. 
Old  truth,  eternal,  reproduced  in  him, 
Was  new,  as  colors  in  a  master's  hand. 
All  truth  he  drew  around  him  as  a  magnet, 
Beauty  and  virtue  deliquesced  in  him, 
As  salt  in  air. 

Charles.      Your  Christ  has  changed  somewhat  ; 
His  kingdom,  sooth,  'tis  sizable  and  strong, 
Isles  of  the  sea  takes  in,  and  part  of  China, 
Each  able  bodied  man  its  partisan, 
Camp  meetings  arms  with  constables ;  his  Book 
Is  slavery's  palladium,  and  war's, 
The  rope  o'er  culprits,  fire  o'er  sinners  holds. 

Pliilo.     On  Christ  the  deeds  of  a  deluded  world, 
O  Charles,  lay  not !     Tax  eyes  of  wine-bibbers 
With  blearedness,  and  accuse  their  nerves  of  palsy  ! 
Christ  is  our  eye  ;  if  we  see  not,  the  fault 
Is  our  excessive  sinfulness.     That  eye 
Clears  up  apace,  and  lights  the  world,  your  night 
Of  death  illuming.     Let  us  walk  among 
The  flowers  ;  taste  my  currants  :  have  you  seen 
A  finer  lot  of  peas  ?     My  aunt  waits  tea. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  Ill 

Sunshine  and  rain  the  Infidel  shall  share, 
And  Nature  work  her  endless  miracle 
For  him ;  nor  from  my  heart  shall  Charles  estray 
Till  that  heart's  faith  he  takes  with  him  away. 

SCENE  —  An  Arbor. 

Philo,  alone. 

Father  in  Heaven,  my  Father,  and  my  God !  — 
For  ten  long  years  bereft  of  helpfulness 
Of  earthly  parentage,  that  led  my  youth 
To  thee,  my  manhood  left,  with  tears  to  me, 
And  orphan  inexperience ;  sole  stock 
Of  all  my  father's  race,  but  not  of  virtue's  ; 
A  wanderer  in  love  and  thought  and  hope, 
Till  Thou  didst  send  me  woman's  fellowship, 
And  margined  me  with  many  kindred  souls  ; 
Others'  support,  myself  too  weak  the  whiles, 
Thy  child  still,  Christ's  disciple  evermore  • 
Though  oft  unsteadfast  to  my  highest  faith, 
Recalled  by  thy  sweet  chastisements  of  love ;  — 


112  PHILO: 

To  Thee,  my  God,  I  come  ;  in  lowliness 

And  utmost  self-abandonment,  to  Thee 

I  sue  without  presumption,  or  a  bold 

Effrontery,  which  I  dare  not  employ ; 

This  finite  to  the  Infinite  unfolds,  — 

Mote  climbing  in  the  rays  of  the  Divine, 

Whence  is  its   power   to   climb,   and   whence   its 

way ;  — 

Narrating  passages  to  the  Omniscient, 
Parling  desires  to  the  Impalpable  ; 
An  emanation  turning  to  its  source ; 
A  link  in  being's  endless  chain,  for  hooks 
Whereon  it  hangs,  inquisitive  ;  adrift 
On  destiny,  and  borne  beyond  my  depth, 
Relying  still  with  halcyon  repose 
On  the  Hand  that  begins,  continues,  ends ; 
A  vellum  hieroglyphed  by  Thee,  the  key 
Beseeching  ;  far  removed,  monadic,  small, 
Presuming  on  the  ministry  of  Cure 
Of  numberless  immensities  ;  in  sense 
Of  need  of  Thee,  with  lively  consciousness 
Of  some  similitude  to  Thee  ;  my  brain 


AN     EVANGELIA1).  113 

In  shadows,  yet  uprising  to  Thy  light, 
Inspired  by  thy  own  motions  in  my  breast ;  — 
Father  in  Heaven,  my  Father,  and  my  God, 
Resolve     me,  —  Why     is     Evil?     Whence,     and 

whither  ? 

This  mystery  unloose,  this  weary  sum 
Explain.     Or  if  I  may  not  know,  give  me 
Submission,  tranquilness  of  mind ;  the  child, 
In  cheerfulness  to  go  about  his  sports, 
The  man  his  work,  replying  nought.     I  bow 
To  Thee,  thy  darkest  Providence  adore, 
And  hedged  in  leaden  Awfulness  will  smile. 
My  soul !  is  that  thy  voice,  or  voice  to  thee. 
Breathing  unartided,  and  resonance 
From  the  waves  of  the  Universal  Soul  ? 
It  is  God's  Wisdom  speaks. 

Voice  of  the  Wisdom  of  God.     Philo,  my  child, 
Thy  prayer  I  hear,  thy  wish  before  me  comes. 
To  human  weakness  all  cannot  be  known  ; 
Humility  must  wait,  and  work,  and  find 
Its  end  in  doing  ;  time  resolves  itself. 
•Fore  valor  Evil  fleeth ;  turns  to  Good. 
10* 


PHILO: 


I  give  you  ears,  hear  ;  feet,  walk  ;  eyes,  behold. 
The  Future  opens  as  you  go  along, 
Sufficient  for  itself,  in  weal,  in  woe. 
Beyond  the  mountains  I  am  ;  there  are  inns 
For  travelling  souls.     Go  quietly  to  bed, 
And  leave  the  morrow's  sun  with  me,  and  do 
Not  tie  it  to  your  window.     Work  as  works 
The  ant.  you  shall  have  store  in  harvest  time. 
All  is  not  bad  that  seems  ;  Necessity 
Of  action,  indolence  misnames  a  curse, 

Stumbling  at  threshold  of  the  law  of  life. 
Contrast  is  not  an  evil,  day  and  night, 

Summer  and  winter  ;  nor  is  death,  that  veil 

Of  heavenly  inition,  raised  to  mortals  ; 

Nor  carnal  appetite  of  meats  and  drinks  ; 

Nor  stubborn  energies  of  mind  and  heart  ; 

Existence  wearieth  not  the  grateful  mind  ; 

It  is  its  own  use,  reason,  and  reward. 

He  liveth  for  himself,  who  lives  for  me, 

God's  glory  lying  in  man's  excellence  ; 

I  gave  man  Christ,  as  sinews  to  the  horse, 

And  showers  of  rain  on  the  new  grass.     I  gave 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  115 

Freedom  to  err,  with  choice  of  rectitude, 
Setting  before  him  life  and  death  ;  to  sores 
Self-healingness,  to  vice  self-conservation  ; 
Instincts  prevenient  of  accidents  ; 
Inbred  dislike  of  wrong  and  cruelty, 
Whence  rallying  voices  cry  for  righteousness; 
My  Spirit  gave,  that  blows  as  blows  the  wind. 
What  follows  is  man's  own,  and  his  to  answer  ; 
Ask  him,  not  me.     Sin  punishes  itself, 
The  wicked  fall  in  pits  themselves  have  digged, 
Gnashing  of  teeth  and  wailing  fill  the  earth. 

Recovery  comes  in  Gospel  of  my  Son, 

In  Holiness,  and  Liberty,  and  Love  ; 

The  Evil  dies  when  Good  revives  ;  it  is 

Probational,  and  ends  when  this  begins. 

Evil  is  the  exception,  not  the  rule  ; 

'Tis  incidental,  not  habitual. 

Crimes  remedy  themselves  or  overthrow, 

Calamity  confirms  the  strength  of  hope  ; 

Weakness  is  quality  of  finite  things, 

And  marks  the  progress  to  Infinity. 

And  ignorance  is  stimulus  of  knowledge, 


116  PHILO: 

As  folly  wisdom's  rundle  ;  shall  the  lark 

Bemoan  its  pinions,  man  his  littleness, 

Where  from  the  dot  becomes  a  kindling  orb  ? 

On  all  alike,  air,  dew,  and  azure,  doled, 

Shall  one  blame  me  for  lack  of  natural  good  ? 

I  called  them  gods  to  whom  my  word  went  forth, 

Created  gods  upon  the  earth,  to  found 

A  Heaven  there,  extension  of  the  Higher. 

Their  treason,  quarrels,  destitution,  woes, 

Lie  at  the  door  of  their  own  consciences. 

From  the  beginning,  Philo,  until  now, 

The  pure  in  heart  their  God  have  seen.     He  gave 

Celestial  fire  to  all  accepting  souls, 

And  laid  no  curse  upon  the  distribution  ; 

Encompassed  Earth  with  swords  of  cherubim, 

Nor  hath  an  evil  thing  gone  into  it ; 

His  blue  eye  watched  its  sleeping  and  its  waking, 

And  motherly  his  winds  have  fanned  its  heat ; 

The  lonely  sparrow-cry  of  grief  and  woe, 

In  Christian  or  in  Heathen  realms,  he  hears ; 

Renews  the  years  of  earth,  and  every  spring 

Gives  it  away  to  man,  as  a  young  bride  ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  117 

The  Poet's  walks  instars  with  pleasant  themes ; 

In  every  oyster  hides  a  pearl  for  minds 

In  earnest ;  sows  the  mustard-seed  in  souls 

Of  infants  ;  furnishes  each  homestead  lot 

With  the  strait  gate  of  highest  purity. 

The  Old  world  God  did  bury  to  spring  up, 

Adorn,  and  bless,  and  satisfy  the  Ne\v  ; 

He  let  his  earthquakes  plough  the  continents, 

Slides  the  sun  up  and  down,  both  poles  to  quicken. 

God  loves  the  Earth  and  its  inhabitants ; 

And  there  are  eyes,  bright  eyes,  that  watch  for  it, 

Behold  it  sweeping  graceful  through  the  air, 

And  wave  their  kerchiefs  to  it  as  it  passes. 

God  feeds  the  Earth  with  his  essential  life  ; 

All  being,  space,  and  time,  he  cherishes ; 

His  Spirit,  weaving  spheres  together,  veils 

Itself  beneath  its  gorgeous  handiwork. 

The  Earth  but  plays  its  part  in  the  great  whole  ; 

Matter  assists  the  soul  till  it  can  go 

Alone.     On  golden  loops  sustained,  fly  off 

Atoms  and  orbs,  truth,  beauty,  action,  rest, 

lii  God's  safe  concave  whirling  evermore. 


118  ruiLO: 

New  worlds  appear,  as  clouds  in  a  clear  sky  ; 
Unerring  laws,  steel-clasped,  bind  all  in  one. 
Should  the  Earth  topple  on  some  fatal  edge, 
A  thousand  stars  would  rush  to  rescue  her. 
All  retardations  overtake  themselves. 
The  cycles  are  kind  Nature's  gala  days, 
When  she  prepa'res  a  dance  on  green  of  God, 
Presents  her  children  with  a  world  or  two. 
Man's  will,  the  last  and  noblest  work  of  God, 
Endowed  with  all  resource  and  perquisite, 
Set  up  in  large  munificence  of  good, 
Must  keep  its  own  accounts,  and  if  it  run 
Behind,  blame  not  the  majesty  of  Heaven. 
'Tis  pride,  imperial,  sacerdotal  pride, 
And  ordinance  of  Force,  not  Christian  Love, 
For  universal  law,  that  ruins  all. 
Not  man,  'tis  God,  still  waits  the  better  day, 
While  Mercy's  hand  is  full  of  pardonings. 
The  final  or  the  primal  cause  of  sin 
'Tis  not  for  men  to  know,  theirs  to  amend. 
God  keeps  his  secrets  to  himself.     Between 
Man  and  his  death,  Grace,  Nature,  multiform, 


AN    EVANGELIAI).  119 

Their  legions  interpose.     Heaven  's  lost  and  won 
By  the  same  mode  ;  the  ladder  whereadown 
Thou  goest,  Man  !  remount ;  forever  it 
Doth  stand  on  sunny  side  of  the  White  Cliffs. 
Philo,  be  of  good  cheer  ;  thy  work  pursue  ; 
Enhomed  in  God,  bring  home  thy  Brother  too. 

SCENE  —  P kilo's  Rooms. 

Philo.     Good  morning  to  you,  dear  and  rever 
end  sir  ; 

Nor  less  revered  for  that  you  are  most  dear. 
One  needs  to  calk  his  doors  this  wintry  weather  ; 
But  summer  comes  with  you,  a  summer  breeze 
Your  faith  and  patience  ;  do  not  ring  the  bell 
When    you    call,    Heaven's   love    as   well    might 

ring. 

All  thanks  for  that  Oration,  thunder-stone, 
That  smote  the  princock,  puling  multitude  ; 
And  for  that  man,  a  worldling,  who  instructs 
The  Church  so  wisely. 

The  Pastor.  Cyrus,  heathen  King, 


120  rillLO: 

God  chose  to  build  Jerusalem  again ; 

'Fore  him  the  two-leaved  gate  of  Israel's  hope 

Was  opened. 

Philo.  God  anoint  more  Cyruses, 

Or  our  captivity  will  never  end  ! 

The  morning  papers  there  ;  have  you  the  heart 

To  read  them  ?     Recent  hooks  if  you  prefer  ; 

Or  will  you  take  an  apple  ?  russetings, 

From  my  own  orchard  ;  they've  no  smell  of  blood. 
The  Pastor.     I  am  an  evesdropper,  and  some 
times  peep 

About  the  walls  of  this  great  gloom,  that  now 
Shuts  up  the  nation.     He,  who  would  go  in. 
Must  mail  his  courage  to  the  teeth.     I  called 
To  idle  out  a  thoughtful  hour.     To  do 
Is  laid  upon  the  shelf,  or  reads  perforce 
A  novel ;  some  minds,  down  of  hope  deferred, 
Are  physicking  the  singular  complaint, 
And  keep  their  beds.     I  thought  to  meet  our  friend, 
The  Poet,  here.     Our  Lawyer  too,  to  whom, 
Unlike  the  craft  of  old,  a  blessing  7s  due, 
Promised  that  lie  would  pass  this  way. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  121 

Philo.  They  come  ;  — 

I  know  the  Poet  by  his  downy  step, 
The  Lawyer,  by  the  racket  he  gets  up, 
Clearing  his  boots  of  snow.     Come,  friends,  enjoy 
My  fire  ;  an  open  fire  I  mean  to  keep, 
Whilst  that  I  can  afford  it. 

The  Pastor.  Many  teams, 

With  many  kinds  of  wood,  and  many  minds 
Of  sellers,  hailed  me  on  the  road.     Which  sort, 
My  Deacon,  would  you  choose,  for  yearly  store  ? 

Philo.     Rock-maple     is    the    best,    or   yellow- 
birch. 

Rock-maple  preaching,  too,  I  recommend ; 
Green-pine,  the  soggy,  dull,  is  not  my  taste ; 
And  hemlock,  like  a  blacksmith's  anvil,  snaps, 
And    scatters    spiteful    flakes,    that    scorch     and 

blacken, 

Yielding  no  solid  heat ;  what  is  its  use  ? 
The  fire  that  Christ  would  kindle  on  the  earth, 
Where  shall  we  look  for  it  ?     Is't  in  the  Clergy  ? 
I  honor  the  vocation,  less  the  men 
That  fill,  or  try  to  fill  it,  as  a  snail 
11 


122  PHILO: 


A  stromb,  too  lean  for  their  ambitious  copes. 
Give  your  idea  of  a  Minister. 

The  Pastor.     Christ's  Minister  is  one  possessed 

of  Christ, 

Able  to  reproduce  that  Christ  in  others ; 
He's  no  schismatic,  to  no  creed  subscribes; 
His  ordination  more  from  Heaven  than  man  ; 
Allows  no  government  'twixt  him  and  God  ; 
Seeks  no  patristic,  but  the  Gospel  model ; 
Tries  legislation  by  the  Christian  law  ; 
With  the  word-hammer  beats  down  public  vice ; 
Applies  the  truth  as  aliment  of  man  ; 
Applies  it  likewise  as  a  sword,  to  cut 
All  wickedness  in  two  ;  no  claw-back  he, 
But  stands  erect  with  Pauline  hardihood 

Before  the  face  of  fashion,  sneers,  and  shame ; 

Serves  not  the  times,  but  strives  to  rectify. 

'Tis  his  to  educate  the  soul,  as  schools 

The  mind  ;  the  virtues  grow,  as  farmers  corn  ; 

In  Heaven  himself,  uplifting  thither  Hell ; 

Baptizes  less  with  water,  as  did  John, 

Than  as  his  Master,  with  the  Holy  Ghost 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  123 

And  fire  ;  the  spirit  through  the  letter  sees, 
As  through  all  variations  of  the  tune 
Some  old  familiar  melody  appears. 
In  prayer  he  leads  the  congregate  desire. 
As  choristers  a  company  of  singers  ; 
By  function  a  Reformer,  not  by  name, 
In  virtue  of  his  office,  pledged  to  Peace, 
Freedom,  and  Temperance,  and  Unity. 
Parochially,  his  duties  multiply, 
To  cheer  the  sick,  and  through  the  gloomy  vale 
To  light  the  dying  man,  inter  the  dead, 
Console  affliction's  manifold  event, 
Impress  the  sacred  seal  on  marriage  vows. 
For  miscellany,  he  is  made,  perchance, 
Bishop  of  the  town  schools,  and  must  inspect 
His  diocese.     The  office  has  no  end ; 
The  spiritual  instruction  of  the  age, 
And  as  successively  the  ages  rise, 
Forever  needed.     Ministers  go  forth 
To  sow  the  generations,  in  their  course, 
With   God's   own   truth,  and   raise   the  crops  for 
glory. 


124  P  II I  L  O  : 

Philo.     Our  Pastor  doth  define  his  whereabouts ; 
We  are  here  cosily  together  ;  fire 
Is  warm,  and  snow  is  cold.     Let  us  discuss 
This  fruit,  and  various  humanities. 

The  Poet.     That's  well ;     expound   what    is  a 
Deacon's  use  ? 

Philo.     The    Deacon  's  handle    of  his  Pastors 

pitcher ; 
And  soon  despatched.     The  Poet's  turn  is  next. 

The  Pastor.     The   clergy  deal    with   men,  the 

Poet  more 

With  things.      The  first  are  practical,  the  last 
Ideal  minds.      The  Minister  obeys 
The  Sabbath  bell  ;  the  Poet  his  own  moods, 
And  wind  and  weather.     Ministers  attend 
Their  special  flock,  an  unselected  lot, 
Black  sheep  and  white.     The  Poet  picks  his  men, 
Preaches  to  distant  times,  and  scattered  ears. 

Philo.     Describe  the  Poet,  as  he  ought  to  be. 

The  Poet.     'Twere   easier  far  to  tell  you  what 

he  is. 
Idealist  with  many  sensuous  wants. 


AN     EVANUELIAD.  125 

A  mouth-piece,  having  more  to  say  than  eat, 
Creator,  failing  to  transform  his  verse 
To  cash ;  with  nerves  as  tender  as  your  eye, 
Convenient  emery  bag  for  the  reviewers 
Wherewith  to  scour  their  pedant  needles ;  hates 
An  air-tight  stove,  but  cannot  buy  a  better  ; 
A  man  like  other  men,  — just  feel  and  see. 
His  inward  self  is  like  your  own,  and  bears 
Resemblance  to  the  inward  self  of  all, 
His  greatness  lying  in  his  commonness. 
From  all  he  takes  what  each  man  deems  his  best, 
As  sketchers  cull  the  landscape,  in  this  wise 
Acquiring  admiration  with  the  mass, 
Since  boors  delight  to  see  their  huts  in  pictures. 
The  Poet  is  the  man  himself,  that  goes 
A  poetizing  as  he  goes  a  fishing. 
His  function  highly  intellectual, 
His  impulse  that  deep  love  which  wells  for  all ; 
His  love  creates,  his  thought  refines  ;  there  is 
No  mystery ;  lift  up  the  veil,  behold ! 
His  thirst  for  fame  is  like  that  of  his  printer,  — 
One  writes,  the  other  prints,  the  best  he  can. 
11  * 


126  PlilLO; 

His  art,  like  that  of  hatters,  lumps,  and  heaps 

Of  matted  nature,  to  bow  out  in  soft 

And  downy  forms,  give  it  a  flowing  motion  ; 

Cat,  otter,  he  makes  all  things  shine  alike. 

Pkilo.     Your  Poet  's  rather  prosy.     What  had  he 

For  breakfast  ? 

The  Poet.        Heavy  wheat  cakes. 
Pkilo.  So  l  Bought. 

The  Poet.     Nay,  there  he  was  poetical ;  he  ate 
To  save  the  feelings  of  his  housekeeper, 
Who  took  his  grace  so  much  to  heart,  she  cried, 
And  vowed  it  never  should  be  so  again. 
Love  is  the  Poet's  way,  and  truth,  and  life  ; 
The  irrigation  of  his  soul,  the  lane, 
The  grassy  lane  whereby  he  entereth 
The  forest  secrets  of  the  universe. 
The  Poet  presses  crimson  autumn  leaves, 
A  Maying  goes  with  flocks  of  lovely  girls, 
Is  fond  of  balls,  and  used  to  drink  champagne ; 
I've  seen  him  at  an  ice-vent  sit  all  day, 
Angling  for  chubs.     He's  constantly  at  church, 
Reposing  bird-like  on  the  Sabbath-tree. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  127 

Where  men  are  quarrying  granite,  launching  sloops, 

Or  grading  railroads,  building  factories, 

You  find  him  ;  the  bee  busy  in  his  garden. 

The  friend  of  all,  all  men  befriend  the  Poet  ; 

Lover  of  all,  all  things  assist  the  Poet. 

Arrows  he  bears,  as  Cupid  did,  and  shoots 

At  fancies  on  the  wing,  and  every  night 

Goes  home  with  basket  full  of  game.     All  time 

Bequeathes  the  Poet  something  for  his  song  ; 

The  riven  ages  plasters  he  with  coats 

Of  beauty,  as  a  mason  doth  his  laths  ; 

And  makes  reigns,  epochs,  nations,  systems,  schools, 

Dance  to  his  lyre,  as  Orpheus  the  bears. 

Living  no  nearer  God,  indeed,  than  doth 

The  Minister ;  less  dragged  to  earth  by  whims 

Of  men  and  individual  caprice. 

So  near  he  lives,  and  neighbor-like  to  Heaven, 

He  knows  what's  going  on  there,  and  reports 

Divinity  in  its  selectest  modes. 

His  hearers  few,  and  nice,  dispersed  like  kings  ; 

Nor  in  a  country  town  can  he  collect 

A  church-full,  like  your  Pastor.     But  his  day 


128  P  H  I  L  O  : 

Will  come ;  the  bell  is  easting  even  now, 
Some  Sabbath  morn,  some  hushed  attentive  dawn 
In  the  Young  World,  to  ring  a  goodly  chime, 
And  summon  All  to  worship  with  the  Poet. 

Pkilo.     Has  he  a  trade,  or  is  he  man  at  large? 
He  is  not  recognized  in  law,  I  think. 

The  Poet.     He    is   a  shoemaker,   or  what  you 

please. 
Pkilo.     Has  he  no  hope  or  fear,  or  thorn  i'  the 

flesh  ? 

The  Poet.     A  secret  there.  —  I  knew  a  Poet  once, 
As  he  himself ;  and  who  could  know  him  better  ?  — 
His  secret  was  a  woman,  mystery, 
Like  Christ,  from  ages  hid  and  generations, 
Man's  undeveloped  and  unfinished  self, 
His  better  self  within  himself  not  born. 
This  Poet  felt  his  secret,  yes,  and  saw, 
Or  got  a  glimpse  at  it,  that  made  him  long 
For  it,  and  long  to  be  himself,  itself. 
There  were  bright  eyes  that  heavenized  his  own ; 
A  voice  that  spake  to  him  in  Pythian  tones ; 
A  bosom,  ebbing,  flowing,  as  the  sea, 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  129 

That  made  his  own  a  child  in  the  sweet  surf ; 
And  lips,  Avarm  lips,  touched  his,  whereto  he  clung 
As  he  would  grow  to  them,  and  they  should  be 
His  mouth.     It  was  his  wont  to  cross  a  brook, 
And  on  the  farther  bank,  his  Secret  tend, 
As  a  wild  flower.     There  fell  a  drenching  rain, 
The    brook    o'erflowed,    and    washed    the    flower 
away.  — 

Philo.     What    then  ?       Why    pause    as    if    our 

North-east  Avinds 
Had  taken   yoiir  breath   off  too  ?     The   long   and 

short 

Of  your  account  is  this,  —  you  fell  in  love. 
Poets,  'tis  rumored,  sailor-like,  have  loves 
In  every  port.     Why  not,  as  we  tell  boys, 
Jump  up  and  take  another  ? 

The  Poet.  He  could  love 

But  one. 

Philo.     And  what  befell  the  paragon  ? 

The  Poet.     Once   more   her  face   he   saw,   and 

only  once, 
Nodding  in  plumes,  and  sitting  a  fleet  horse, 


130  FHILO: 

Another  rider  near  ;  but  on  and  on 

That  face  it  sped  ;  the  spur  and  whip  were  fast 

Behmd  ;  — on,  on,  the  plumes  dash  out  of  sight ! 
Philo.     What  was  his  after  life  ? 
The  Poet.  A  semitone, 

A  noon  sub  fuse,  with  cups  of  oxymcl  ; 

Some  conscious  worth  dropped  oil  on  his  unrest ; 
There  was  a  sense  of  deepest  truthfulness 
Whereto  he  moored  himself,  and  went  ashore, 
And  paced  along  that  solemn-sounding  strand. 
Sometimes  adown  his  lone  and  empty  soul 
Tears  trilled,  and  clicked,  as  water  in  a  cave. 
But  still  the  Poet  loved,  as  was  his  nature  ; 
He  kept  the  image  of  his  captive  love, 
And  wrought  on  it  as  an  ideal  bust, 
Invoked  its  aid,  as  Papists  do  their  Mary's. 
He  loved  hod-carriers,  and  the  derrick  gang, 
Brought  ragged  children  to  the  Sunday  school  ; 
Once,  when  he  found  one  that  had  been  in  love, 
As  he  had  been,  he  took  him  by  the  sleeve, 
With  lure  of  pity  drew  his  story  out.  - 
It  was  a  hind  whose  sweetheart  jilted  him. 


AN    EVANGELIA1).  131 

Those  bumpkin  eyes  grew  liquid  as  a  girl's, 
And  brightened,  as  a  moss-tagged  larch  on  fire. 
He  learned,  as  he  had  never  done  before, 
The  depth  and  greatness  of  the  human  heart, 
And  prisoned,  tongueless  heart  of  every  thing ; 
And  lives  to  be  interpreter  of  all. 

Philo.     The  Minister  and  Poet  both  have  shown 
Their   hand.      Now    let    the    Christian    statesman 

speak. 
The   Lawyer.      The  Statesman,    as   his   name 

imports,  is  one 

Devoted  to  the  State's  high  interest  ; 
Our  laws  enacts  and  executes  ;  on  points 
Of  civil  controversy  arbitrates  ; 
Provides  for  easy,  profitable  flux 
Of  men  and  wares  throughout  the  continent ; 
The  rights  of  property  defines,  and  keeps : 
The  miller's  flowage,  widow's  dole,  the  mete 
And  boundary  of  debt  and  credit,  rule 
Of  limitation,  privilege  of  easement, 
What  makes  a  nuisance,  or  a  cord  of  wood, 
Standard   of  weights,   with   scores   of  things  like 

these, 


132  PHILO: 

Are  his  concern,  and  all  of  large  desert. 

The  Christian  Statesman  leaves  Yattel  for  Christ, 

The  best  civilian  extant  j  forts  discards  ; 

With  Virtue's  awful  face  defends  the  land ; 

Concedes  a  penny,  gains  a  pound  in  honor  ; 

Promotes  the  freest  trade  with  every  port  ; 

All  War's  exchequer  turns  to  arts  of  Peace  j 

Mixes  the  nations,  as  a  farmer  soils, 

Compounds  their  strength,  and  gets  a  double  crop ; 

Extends  Democracy  by  its  own  worth ; 

Creates  demand  for  it,  as  for  camellias, 

By  an  intrinsic  beauty  ;  the  old  World 

Is  tender  of  as  his  own  mother ;  treats 

Her  foibles  as  a  wise  and  noble  son ; 

Some  lessons  learns,  much  filial  aid  imparts. 

•» 

The    Christian    Statesman    owns     God's    govern 
ment 

Supreme  and  absolute  ;  subordinates 
To  this  all  laws  and  requisitions  ;  knows 
No  treason,  save  in  those  inhuman  men 
Who  aid  and  comfort  sin  and  wrong.     He  builds, 
Improves,  embellishes  the  country  through, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  133 

As  gentlemen  their  private  grounds.     He  works 
With  Clergymen,  and  buys  the  Poet's  book. 

Philo.     Now  the  Reformer,  and  whatever  else 
Is  accessorial  to  our  fondest  hope. 

The  Lawyer.     The  Christian  Statesman  lays  no 

stress  on  jails  ; 

To  punish  is  not  Christian,  but  reform. 
Whate'er  restraints  Reformers  justify, 
Their  ends  impose,  the  laws  must  give,  —  no  more. 

The  Pastor.     That  all  should  be  Reformers  is 

my  thought  ; 

The  Clergy,  Statesmen,  Poets,  every  guild, 
Estate,  profession,  calling.     The  Reformer 
Is  inorganic  in  society, 
No  wheel  in  the  machinery  of  life  ; 
But  needful  as  Physicians  are,  to  cure 
Diseases  of  the  time  ;  he  heals  the  patient, 
Then  lets  him  loose  again  ;  and  farmer-like, 
After  a  snow,  turns  out  to  clear  the  roads ;  — 
Needed,  I  say,  as  were  those  caverned  Prophets. 
But  he  must  be  regenerate  in  love, 
Or  he  is  false  as  wind,  Barjesus  IT. 
12 


134 


Let  him  not  melt  the  candle  lighting  it  ; 
Cursing  the  sin,  he  still  should  bless  the  man. 
Why  imitate  that  rabid  Irish  Count, 
Who  hated  England  with  so  dear  a  hate, 
He  killed  his  men  for  tasting  English  bread  ! 
Nor  let  him  get  so  far  before  his  age 
He  loses  sight  of  it,  as  I  have  seen 
A  locomotive,  breaking  from  the  train  ; 
Be  sure  he  keeps  the  string  within  his  hands, 
As  kite-fliers  do,  and  running  raise  mankind  ; 
St.  Patrick  copy,  who  expelled  the  snakes, 
Replenishing,  meanwhile,  the  land  with  churches. 
Reform  's  like  catching  logs  on  a  SAvift  current,  — 
You  cannot  tow  them  straightway  to  the  shore, 
But  with  them  down  the  stream  must  float  a  while  ; 
By  yielding  draw,  and  gentle  curves  bring  in. 

Philo.      The    Painter,    Architect,    and    Music- 
wright,  — 

The  Pastor.     Are  demiurgic  aids  of  the  Great 

Day. 

The  pallet,  chisel,  clefs,  are  various  means 
Of  one  eternal,  wonder-working  life. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  135 

Let  all  in  faith,  hope,  love,  combine  together, 
As  many  elements  make  perfect  weather. 

SCENE  —  A  Village  Party. 

Philo.     We  will  repay  thee  for  thy  long  sojourn 
In  those  woods,  Love,  and  surfeit  thee  with  joys. 
Unmask,  Faith  •  many  eyes  will  peep  thee  out, 
As  from  a  stream  look  up  what  eyes  look  in. 
All  frank  and  candid  here,  and  worth  inspection  ; 
The  forward  chaste,  the  silent  wear  no  chains. 
The  world  departs,  leaves  these  to  innocence, 
And   pleasure.      They    are    Annie's    friends,    and 

mine, 

Not  types  or  hopes,  but  substances  and  facts, 
Ripe  fruit,  that  reddens,  tempting,  on  the  tree, 
To  be  enjoyed  in  hodiernal  prime, 
Not  speculated  with. 

Spirit  of  Love.  You  multiply 

The  good  and  true,  our  mission  terminates, 
And  we  with  it.     Shall  we  decease  to-night  ? 

Philo.     Not    quite,    I   fancy.     Here,   belike,   is 
what 


136  PHILO: 

May  keep  thee  with  us  for  a  month  or  so. 

At  least,  it  is  a  pleasant  death  thou  diest, 

And  were't  prolonged,  who  would  object  ?     There 

stands 

Oar  Frances,  by  the  centre-table,  reading, 
The  light  flush  in  her  face,  that  regal  air, 
Ascendency  of  figure,  are  out-born. 
And  nurtured  of  her  heart ;  I  know  her  well. 
Mary,  in  the  bay-window,  set  aloof, 
Is  delicately  reserved  as  that  ;  withdraws 
Not  for  pursuit,  but  that  she  loves  the  shade. 
Edward  and  Julia  ponder  on  that  book 
Of  Hindoo  plates,  and  talk  of  lands  unknown. 
She  loves  the  world,  and  studies  how  to  travel, 
Since  he  will  soon  be  master  of  a  ship, 
And  take  her  with  him  out  to  India ; 
From  that  clime,  mystic,  eld,  and  beautiful, 
The  Ganges  and  the  Brahmins,  they  will  bring 
No  crumb,  but  heart,  and  rational  account. 
Will  be  themselves  a  life-plate  seen  of  all. 

Annie.     Ellen  is  gone  ;  we  miss  her  clear  black 

eye, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  137 

That  shut,  and  left  a  spot  of  night  in  all 
The  places  where  we  used  to  be.     O  Death, 
To  rob  a  pearl  from  this  fair  rosary 
That  ever  on  the  neck  of  Beauty  hangs ! 

Spirit  of  Love.     Whole  rosaries  Death  takes,  on 

Heaven's  neck 
Suspending. 

Annie.  Henry,  this  is  she  of  whom 

I  told  you.     She  would  like  to  know  my  friends. 

Henry.     I'm  glad  to  meet  thee  here. 

Spirit  of  Love.  What's  thy  vocation  ? 

Henry.     A  farmer. 

Love.  What  dost  know  ? 

Henry.  To  sow  and  reap. 

Love.     Dost  thou  know  how  to  love  ? 

Henry.  Ask  Sarah  there. 

Love.     Has't  any  faith  ? 

Henry.  Our  Pastor  ask.     My  forte 

Is  working.     Give  me  handleable  stuff, 
Stone-walling,  shearing  sheep,  or  grain  to  thresh, 
And  I  am  in  my  element ;  not  used 
To  theorizing,  but  to  concrete  action. 


138  riiiLO: 

I  cannot  dance  with  Philo's  graceful  air, 

Nor  he  mow  grass  so  evenly  as  I. 

A  portion  of  her  lustre  Sarah'll  miss,  — 

What  lace  and  curls  and  animated  dance, 

And  all  this  rosy  circumstance  bestow,  — 

When  she  becomes  my  partner  on  the  farm, 

As  willows  lose  their  suppleness  by  years. 

My  face  is  brown,  and  hard  this  hand,  my  heart 

Is  vital,  and  my  spirit  free  as  ever. 

I    raise    the    corn,    she'll    make    the   bread,    and 

God 
The    Good    will    bless   us   both ;    and    wilt   not 

thou, 
Fair  Attribute  of  God  ? 

Love.  Indeed  1  will. 

Henry.     I  am  no  slave,  or  sectaiist,  believe 
Myself  no  injurer.     My  farm  contains 
A  little  spring,  that  feeds  my  house  and  barn ; 
Crossing  the  road,  the  traveller  doth  drink 
Thereof ;  it  deepens  in  my  neighbor's  meadow, 
And  finds  at  length  the  all-diffusive  flood. 
Our  sphere  is  small,  and  quite  material, 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  139 

Filling  it  well,  shall  we  not  make  it  glow, 
As  Sarah  glows  from  inward  love  of  me  ? 
What  more  can  angel  or  archangel  do  ? 
Oar  Pastor  preaches  thus,  thus  I  believe. 
In  casting  iron,  flaws  are  filled  with  iron. 
And  flawy  man  shall  mended  be  by  man. 

Spirit  of  Faith.     This   is  delightful,  Love.     I 

have  not  been 

So  entertained  for  years.     I  spoke  with  Lucy, 
A  teacher,  who  asks  us  to  see  her  school, 
Where  are  a  dozen  being  born  again, 
New  crystals  forming  in  the  Rock  of  Ages, 
She  says. 

Annie.     Louisa  sings  ;  list  ye  the  strain. 

Bless,  holy  Love  !  our  calm  retreat ; 
The  lily  's  fair,  the  rose  is  sweet  ; 
Than  rose  or  lily,  purer  bloom 
The  hearts  thy  grace  and  power  illume. 

O  Hope  divine,  support  our  souls  \ 
The  shadows  fall,  the  thunder  rolls ; 


140  PI1ILO: 

When  terror  all  the  land  enshrouds, 
With  thy  bine  eye  disperse  the  clouds. 

The  mountain  hides  us  from  the  East  ; 
In  us  be  living  Faith  increased  j 
The  mountain  from  its  place  we  fling, 
Or  o'er  its  top  our  vision  wing. 

The  Poet.     The  supper  calls  us ;  Charlotte,  go 
with  me. 

Charlotte.     The    Poet  feeds    on    nectar  ;    what 

cares  he 
For  sandwiches  ? 

The  Poet.  Your  Poet  a  high  fall 

Resembles,  Tequendama,  for  example, 
Whereof  the  water  all  evaporates 
Before  it  strikes  the  bottom,  so  'tis  said. 
My  Poet  flows  afield  where  people  dwell, 
Or  pours  his  water  from  a  goblet,  thus  ;  — 
Or  will  you  have  a  glass  of  lemonade  ? 

Charlotte.     I  do  not  ask  for  drink,  but  poetry. 

The  Poet.     And   what's    the  difference  ?     Con 
sider  now 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  141 

This  room  ;  this  table,  these  environments. 
With  lights  and  eyes  so  pleasantly  combined, 
As  hardness  and  transparency  in  opal, 
As  strength  arid  gracefulness  in  Philo's  horse. 
Red  apples  topped  with  grapes  on  a  white  cloth, 
Please  twofold  taste  ;  what  happiness  in  eating  ! 

Charlotte.     Is  that  poetic  elevation,  sir  ? 

The  Poet.     Yon  have  seen  sheep  turned  out  to 
grass  in  spring  ? 

Charlotte.  Worse,  worse. 

The  Poet.     Reflect  011  unity  of  food 
And  satisfaction,  this  and  tranquilness. 
Men  rhyme  for  bread  ;  so  corn  and  song  are  cousins. 
To  give  the  beautiful  to  earth,  and  pence 
To  beggars,  rolls  of  candy  to  a  child, 
Or  plums  to  Charlotte,  —  all  are  poetry. 

Charlotte.       Here,    Sukey !     bring    a   macaroni 

wreath  ; 
We'll  crown  our  Poet ! 

The  Poet.  Julia  whispers  me 

You'll  thus  commend  your  Poet  to  the  poor. 

Charlotte.     J  ulia  !     What  marvel  will  her  tongue 
work  next  ? 


142  PHILO: 

The  Poet.     She's  simple  as  a  kitten  in  a  palace. 
Charlotte.     Too    stately   to  be   simple,   on  my 

word. 

The  Poet.     Simplicity  consists  with  stateliness, 
As  meekness  with  the  Son  of  God. 

Charlotte.  My  eye 

No  singleness  invests,  and  I  am  dark. 

The  Poet.     The  Beautiful  and  Useful,  great  or 

small, 

At  Church  or  Balls,  in  Heaven  or  Earth,  awake 
The  pure  in  heart  to  lyric  admiration. 

Charlotte.     I  am  not  pure  ;  the  gross  and  tan 
gible 

I  fain  would  overmount,  the  Poet's  aid 
Solicit. 

The  Poet.     Seek  you  maidens  formed  of  musk, 
Like  Mahomet's  ?     I  do  not  deal  in  such. 

Charlotte.     Within  myself  I  go,  and  drop  my 

veil. 
The  Poet.     Quit  Annie,  Philo  leave,  and  all  the 

world  ? 

Charlotte.      Till   1  am  better.     (Jive  me,  if  you 
can, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  143 

A  strong  resolve,  a  steadfast  prosecution, 

A  deeper  love  for  all  humanity. 

We  women,  minionly  with  golden  spoon, 

Would  sip  the  sunbeams  !  while  within  our  hearts 

Some  vulgar  selfishness  or  envy  's  munched  j  — 

A  frank  confession,  sir,  and  sad  as  frank. 

Let  all  the  truth  be  told.     Betray  it  not, 

Or  use  it  for  its  cure.     This  room,  this  talk, 

Escape  of  woman's  darkest,  secret  thought, 

This  shaking  of  the  dust  from  off  one's  heart, 

Is  suffocating.     Go  we  out  of  doors. 

Pure  Annie's  purer  guest,  angelic  Love, 

Is  on  the  portico  ;  join  we  her  walk. 

Don't  noise  my  wickedness.     I  truly  doubt 

If  Heaven  heeds  the  story  of  our  plagues. 

If  ever  I  get  there,  I  should  be  shamed 

To  have  it  known  how  vile  I've  been.     In  prayer, 

For  virtue,  not  connivency,  I  ask.  — 

In  this  fresh  air,  Love,  let  me  walk  with  thee, 

And  tread  with  thee  the  beach  of  blessedness, 

And  wash  my  feet  in  foam  of  that  great  sea 

That  brings  thee  life  and  beauty  from  afar. 


144  PHILO: 

My  habits,  as  a  pot  of  flowers,  I  set 
In  the  warm  rain  of  thy  correction.     Make 
My  spirit  constellate  with  thine,  wherefrora 
All  haze  and  wanton  flecks  shall  disappear. 

Love.     Who    hath    receives,  who   wanteth  still 

must  want. 

The  water  rises  to  the  Moon,  the  Moon 
Sinks  to  the  water ;  currents  pass  from  soul 
To  soul,  and  interpass,  clcctric-like. 
The  road  to  God  is  thronged  with  chariots 
Of  fire,  and  back  and  forth  the  swift  steeds  fly, 
And  travellers  exchange  their  joyous  greetings. 
Truth  crowns  her  champion,  Duty,  in  the  great 
And  dusty  tournament  of  life  :  star  calls 
To  star,  and  from  humanity's  dark  depths, 
The  host  comes  goldening  forth.     I  cannot  work 
For  you,  but  let  my  heart  lie  by  the  side 
Of  yours,  and  both  are  quickened,  both  exult. 
We  sow  each  other's  spirits ;  God's  the  crop. 
I  sound  the  Church,  and  where  it  rings,  I  tarry ; 
Its  dulness  frightens  me  away.     I  go 
Where  I'm  invited  ;  so  came  here  to-night. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  145 

To  those  that  bear  an  offering  to  virtue, 

As  children  baskets  to  a  festival. 

And  rest  upon  their  loads,  a  helping  hand 

I  give  ;  the  pilgrim  kiss  as  he  goes  by 

In  journey  to  the  promised  land.     Arise, 

Charlotte  ;  be  of  good  cheer  ;  thy  faith  saves  thee. 

Charlotte.     I  do  believe  in  fealty  of  soul 
To  soul.     More  free  the  free  make  us,  and  strong 
The  stronger.     Thy  kind  words  are  life  to  me  ; 
So  shall  the  Poet's  be.  —  Wilt  thou  not  spend 
A  week  with  us,  and  let  me  see  thee  more  ? 

Love.     Some  morning  I  may  visit  thee. 

Charlotte.  The  morning ! 

We  have  no  help  ;  I  do  the  work.  —  Alas  ! 
Forgive  me  that  impurity.     The  soul 
No  sweeping  knows,  they  say. 

The  Poet.  As  Julia  does, 

Render  the  broom  poetical. 

Charlotte.  <  Julia !  ' 

Again.     The  Mordecai  still  at  my  gate  !  — 
I  am  resolved  ;  pray  for  me,  in  me  pray, 
O  sacred  Love !     Help  me  to  make  my  vow, 
13 


146  PIIILO: 

My  maiden  vow  to  be  ;  above  all  cant, 

Veneer,  and  silly  daintiness  to  be. 

Here  let  me  spend  my  tears,  and  my  remorse  ; 

In  this  dark  hour  thy  mantle  round  me  fold, 

Arid  see  me  safe  at  home,  the  spirit's  home, 

And  mine.     Let  Julia  shine  as  Hesperus. 

As  that  same  star  looks  down  upon  the  river, 

I'll  look  on  life,  and  beauty  see  where'er 

I  go,  in  all  I  do  ;  so  little  things, 

As  bees  from  hives,  fly  up  with  Poet  wings. 

SCENE —  The  Street. 

Philo  and  Annie. 

Philo.     A  message  came  that  she  was  dying  ;  let 
Us  haste,  ere  bursts  that  struggling  preciousness 
Its  bars. 

Annie.     Dying !     I  watch  with  her  to-night. 

Philo.  She  needs 

No  watchers  more. 

Annie.  Mine  is  the  need,  alas ! 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  147 

To  gather  strength  from  weakness  such  as  hers. 
Repose  from  that  calm,  sacred  languishment. 

Philo.     Sheeted,  impassive,  will  she  lie  to-night, 
Meanwhile  awakening  in  Heaven,  where 
The  Angels,  gentle  nurses  of  the  soul, 
Will  tend  the  new-born   child   that  Time  brings 

forth 
Unto  Eternity. 

Annie.  O  Caroline  ! 

O  deep  and  awful  mystery  of  Death  ! 
Far  off,  the  teeming  world  'twixt  me  and  it, 
With  interim  of  eating,  drinking,  marriage, 
Or  coming  only  as  a  plaintive  strain 
Amid  the  racketing  and  bright  excess 
Of  being,  —  Death  affrights  me  not.     But  face 
To  face  with  it,  bared  to  its  cold,  keen  eye. 
To  stand  in  very  wind  of  that  fell  besom, 
To  wait  the  landing  of  the  All-Unknown, 
Of  that  deep  Dread  and  Longing,  in  the  dark, 
To  feel  the  purring,  whiskered  touch,  — 
This  disconcerts  me. 

Philo.  Have  faith,  Annie,  faith, 


148 


Your  old  and  wonted  intrepidity, 

The  strong  determination  of  the  will, 

Fashioned  of  fortitude  and  love,  —  and  let 

The  terror  gather,  shadows  multiply, 

You  shall  be  calm,  self-buoyed,  and  softly,  as 

A  snow-flake,  drop  into  Eternity. 

Ants  wear  a  footpath  in  the  flinty  rock  ; 

Through  all  our  stubborn  fears  and  craggy  doubts, 

Are  little  paths  that  lead  into  the  Future, 

Well  beaten  by  the  stress  of  pious  feet. 

Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  ;  Christ  has  gone 

Before  ;  whither  we  know,  the  way  we  know. 
Annie.     The  faith  of  Caroline  is  not  in  me 

The  sterling,  current  sense  and  principle 

That  faith  should  be.      She  had  no  fear  of  death  ; 

Once,  when  she  went  to  sleep,  she  said  I  need 

Not  try  to  wake  her,  for  she  might  be  dead. 

Her  faith  was  sight,  and  sight  was  faith  ;  to  God 

Abandoned,  yet  unto  herself  sufficing  ; 

Submissive,  never  abject  ;  rational, 

Ever  of  trust  most  absolute  ;  she  lay 

An  infant  in  the  lap  of  Destiny, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  149 

And  smiled  in  agonies  ;  prepared  to  die. 
Most  apt  for  life  ;  so  holy  and  so  glad, 
As  she  had  travelled  on  that  road  before, 
Or  went  a  princess  to  receive  her  crown. 
I  knew  too  she  must  die,  and  that  event 
Has  daily  threatened ;  but  its  coming  tries 
My  best  assurance,  all  my  thought  unsettles. 
I  fain  would  weep,  an  I  were  in  my  chamber. 

Pliilo.     Let  not  perplexity  impede  our  step ; 
We  shall  be  tardy  at  the  great  occasion. 

Annie.     Ah !  Philo,  how  the  road  is  filled  with 

men 

And  teams,  the  crossings  choked  !   what  unconcern 
Of  this  sad  hour !     And  we  must  hurry  on, 
Bear  death  and  great  eternity  through  all 
This  crowd ;  move  cheerful  too,  and  quietly 
As  flows  the  river  'neath  the  din,  and  dust, 
And  creaking  of  the  bridge.     Some  bailer  wares, 
Some  sport  swift  horses  ;  yonder  ale-bench  shakes 
With  vile  carousals. 

Philo.  Death,  anon,  must  come 

To  all,  and  tears  shall  macerate 
13* 


150  PHILO: 

Each  hardened  cheek  of  this  vain  multitude. 
When  you  are  dancing,  by  and  by,  that  fop, 
Wilted  with  grief,  will  lean  upon  an  urn. 
All  days  are  some  one's  black  day  j  this  is  ours, 
To-morrow  theirs.     The  l  Cap  and  Bells  '  will  drive 
The  boys  from  window  where  his  child  is  dying. 
We  judge  too  harshly  of  our  fellow-men  ; 
The  stony heartedest  must  pliant  yield, 
The  meretricious  I  have  seen  in  weeds. 
God  give,  that  death  in  sin,  and  the  last  breath 
Of  spiritual  desire,  and  carrion  souls, 
The  ghastliness  of  fraud  and  violence, 
Would  waken  sentiment,  and  make  men  weep ! 
Annie.     I    see    the    house  ;    it   seems    in   some 

dream-change, 

As  if  it  had  its  substance  in  enchantment. 
The  light  about  it  shimmers  strangely  ;  and 
The  door,  —  I  never  went  through  such  a  door, 
Where  one  was  dying  !     Is  it  Heaven  invests 
The  spot  ?  or  my  entranced  thought  ?  or  some 
Repressless  terror  ?     Julia  enters,  soft 
And  bowed,  as  if  she  climbed  the  twilight  slope, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  151 

And  ventured  cross  the  line,  the  mystic  line, 
Where  meet  the  empires  of  Supernal  Day, 
And  Night  profoundest.     See,  those  maple  leaves 
Before  the  gate,  frost-touched,  are  falling  fast ; 
Transparent  at  their  close,  as  she  we  mourn. 
Watch  that  one,  bright  as  if  the  sun  had  wept 
It  on  her  bier  ;  it  sinks,  but  hesitates 
To  drop ;  whirled  across  the  street,  the  weeds 
Arrest  its  course,  and  in  the  hollows  'twill 
Dissolve,  and  smoke-like  vanish  into  nought. 

Philo.     Forbear,  my  love  ;  thy  mind  is  overcast ; 
Wait  on  the  Lord,  the  cloud  will  soon  be  past. 

SCENE  —  The  Chamber  of  the  Dying, 
The  Pastor  and  other  Friends. 

The  Pastor.     We  meet   in  soberness,  but  not 

despair  ; 

Above  the  gloomy  grave  our  hope  ascends 
E'en  as  the  Moon  above  the  silent  mountains. 
These  partings  are  re-unions  in  the  skies  ; 


]  52  r  H  i  L  o : 

To  that  great  company  of  holy  ones 

She    goes,    and   we,  my  friends,  how  soon,  shall 

follow  ! 

In  shadowy  void,  betwixt  two  worlds  we  stand ; 
The  distant  All-Light  opes  its  wicker  gate, 
The  Future  beams  auroral,  flesh  expires, 
The  soul  begins  its  perfect  day.     Our  eyes 
Could  not  endure  the  beauty  of  the  blest  ; 
A  vision  veiled,  as  if  the  promise  burned 
In  alabaster,  is  the  bliss  of  those 
That    die    in    Christ.     These    parents   weep,    arid 

sisters. 

And  all  of  us  may  weep ;  our  tears  are  fond 
Affection's  vein  that  bleeds  in  severing. 
Yet  murmur  not,  soft  be  your  mourning  woes. 
The  bread  receive,  and  cup,  our  dying  Lord's 
Remembrancer,  his  life  and  death  vouchsafed 
For  us.     Erelong,  anew  we  eat  and  drink 
In  kingdom  of  his  glory.     Let  us  pray.  - 
To  thee,  O  Father,  we  the  loved  one  yield ; 
Thy  love  receive  the  best  that  ours  can  give, 
Thy  care  fulfil  what  our  poor  guidance  missed ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  153 

From  thee  begun,  to  thee  returns  the  soul  ; 
By  Christ  atoned  with  thee,  and  by  his  truth 
Delivered  from  the  chains  and  taint  of  sin, 
This  purity  doth  seek  its  own  ;  to  thee, 
O  Father,  cometh,  thine  to  thee.     O  Life 
Immortal !  now  endue  this  mortal  life. 
Ye  Holy  Fires  !  absorb  the  quivering  flame. 
Thou  God  all  glorious,  glorify  thy  child  ! 

Julia,  (kneeling.) 

Speak  to  me,  Caroline,  by  word  or  sign, 
Or  pressure  of  the  hand,  a  blessing  give  ; 
Bequeathe  a  solace.     Ellen  dear  has  gone  ; 
Our  numbers  thin,  and  worldliness  augments  ; 
We  buried  her  in  blossom  of  her  youth ; 
Still  fades  the    flower,  while   ripening  buds  have 

worms 

I'  the  root.     From  thy  departing  life,  I  pluck 
A  bloom  to  shine  forever  on  my  path. 
In  valediction,  do  but  syllable 
Our  hope  ;  withdrawing,  leave  thy  o'er-sweet  smile 
Behind  ;  in  last  exhaustion,  if  thou  canst. 
Suggest  what  shall  enure  to  us  for  good. 


154  PHILO: 

Caroline.     The  Cross  is  all  my  stay,  —  it  must 

be  borne  ; 

Bear  it  well,  at  the  last  it  will  bear  thee. 
Or  if  you  faint,  you  shall  be  strengthened ;  nail 
To  it  your  sins,  unloose  the  worst  of  loads. 
Christ  live,  and  life  all  beautiful  is  yours  ; 
Christ  plant,  and  everlasting  flowers  are  ye. 
Be  earnest  in  your  ways,  to  reason  true, 
Frivolity  and  superstition  shun. 
Attain  the  resurrection  now  from  sin, 
From  grace  to  glory  mount  each  passing  day. 
Beloved  ones,  let  me  see  your  faces.     Mary, 
Thou  weepest ;  God  love  thee  for  thy  fond  heart ! 
The  stars  I've  wantoned  in,  and  fed  my  thought 
On  balmy  spring,  and  grace  derived   from  moon 
beams. 

Bring  me  that  morning,  girls,  we  once  enjoyed 
Together  ;  sing  to  me  the  robin,  Annie, 
Your  elm-tree  robin  ;  spiritual  hours, 
And  every  gentle  feeling,  chant  to  me. 
Earth's  songs  shall  cheer  my  Advent  into  Heaven. 
The  All-Glory  envelops  you,  weep  not  ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  155 

The  Supersolar  ray  constrains  my  breath  ; 
The  Inapproachable  approaches  me. 

Ministering  Angel      The  veil  uplifts;    Infin 
ity  's  ajar  ; 

And  Christ  is  by ;  what  fears  the  novice  now  ? 
God's  love  is  still  our  road  ;  yet  higher  climb.  — 
I  long  have  gone  upon  her  steps,  and  when 
She  slept,  have  kept  the  charm  of  her  pure  life, 
Vibrations  of  the  Universal  Love 
Directing  to  her  ear ;  I  rung  the  bell 
Of  conscience  to  arouse  her  heed,  and  oft 
Stirred  soothing  herbs  into  her  cups  of  grief. 
And  when  her  thoughts  grew  dark,  I  set  a  lamp 
Beside  her.  —  Ceased  the  fluttering  breath,  her  pulse 
Is  still,  forth  breaks  the  spirit  from  the  flesh. 
Fond  flesh  !     "Tis  yours,  O  sobbing  company. 
To  bury,  yours  with  rue  and  rosemary 
To  cover.     Preciously  emburthened,  I 
Depart.     Forever  burns  the  Beautiful 
In  your  night-faring  sorrows,  as  a  star  : 
Burns  she  amidst  the  Beautiful  afar. 


156  PHILO: 


SCENE  —  A  Steamboat. 

Philo.     How  seemed  the  Anniversaries  to  thee  ? 
Or  were  they  real  so  they  could  not  seem  ? 

Spirit  of  Love.       An  earnest  song,  with  many 

mighty  throats, 
But  all  on  different  pitch. 

Spirit  of  Faith.  They  are  the  sign 

Of  something  better. 

Love.  Signs  are  getting  cheap  ; 

One  tires  of  indications,  mouth-made  hopes, 
When  need  of  action  's  so  importunate. 
Spirit  of  Hope.     You  do  not  tire  of  me  ? 
Love.  No>  dearest>  no- 

Heaven  lodged  its  pink  in  you  ;  the  earth  may  fail, 
There  still  is  Heaven  with  you. 

Faith.  l  ncver  was 

In  such  a  crowd.     To  every  church,  and  hall, 
Philo  would  have  me  go.     And  once  in  haste 
To  reach  a  meeting,  brushing  through  the  men 
And  women,  throng  of  hurried  fervency, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  157 

Platoons  of  them,  that  glutted  all  the  flag, 
And  as  a  herd  of  famished  deer,  did  win 
The  narrow  vestibule,  and  flighty  stairs,  — 
I  lost  my  cross,  and  it  were  lost  for  aye, 
Beneath  the  scuffle  of  those  zealous  feet ; 
But  one  recovered  it,  a  blond-haired  girl. 
Who  said  'twas  pity  that  should  miss  the  Week. 

Love.     The  bright  side  of  this  many-sided  world, 
Our  sprightly  sister  hunts  for  till  she  finds. 

Philo.     The  dissonance  of  which  you  speak  is 

strife 

For  Right  and  Truth,  the  strife  of  minds  not  clear 
In  all  they  ask ;  Columbus-like,  they  sail 
For  some  new  land,  not  knowing  where  to  steer. 

The  Pastor.     The  world,  or  church  has  never 

yet  desired 

The  Absolute  and  the  Divine.     And  now, 
As  That  Day  comes,  and  new  ideas,  like 
A  sun  at  midnight,  break  upon  the  mind, 
Our  eyes  not  yet  familiar  with  the  light, 
In  catching  at  a  truth,  we  sometimes  grasp 
A  brother's  throat. 
14 


158  PHILO: 

Philo.          New  thoughts,  new  forms,  like  birds. 
Are  the  most  noisy  when  they  first  appear  ; 
And  blest  Reform  is  a  cold  shower-bath, 
Till  one  gets  used  to  it.     The  West  goes  down 
Before  the  East  has  fairly  risen,  whence 
A  twilight  that  arouses  all  the  frogs. 

Faith.     Christ's    Judgment    hour    doth    verily 

approach. 

The  Bridegroom's  cry  is  heard  in  all  the  land ; 
And  men  are  out  with  lamps,  or  else  what  mean 
The  solemn  gatherings  of  late  ?     To-night 
This  bulky  Boat  is  crammed  with  restive  thought, 
And   each    man,  like   the    shaft,  doth    throb    and 

heave, 
As  he  were  some  all-forceful  enginery. 

Love.     Christ  had  no    press,   or  daily   mail,  or 

clerk, 

Employed  no  treasurer  but  Judas  ;  hired 
No  chapels,  used  no  arts  of  eloquence  ; 
He  loved,  taught  love,  lived  love,  and  wooed  earth's 

harsh 
And  grating  sounds  to  harmony  by  love. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  159 

Philo.     We    patient    wait    till    Christ    shall   be 

revealed 
In  all  heart's  pulse,  in  every  movement  move. 

Hope.     The  City's  beauty  ravishes  my  sight  ; 
Like    Heaven's    distant     splendor,    dome,    spires, 

roofs, 

Are  buried  in  a  blaze  of  sunset  glory  ; 
As  wings  of  brooding  immortality, 
The  violet  beams  enfold  the  horizon, 
A  golden  inundation  sweeps  the  hills ; 
On  either  side,  the  shore  extends  its  arms, 
Runs  after  us  with  both  hands  full  of  trees, 
And  cottages,  and  gardens. 

Philo.  Yonder  large 

And  marble  edifice  is  for  the  Blind  ; 
And  that,  the  Monument  of  Bunker  Hill. 

Charles.     A  glorious  battle  ;  do  not  touch  that 

subject. 
Love.     That  war,  that  famed  and  boastful  war, 

confirmed 

The  taste,  and  brightened  the  excuse,  of  blood, 
Smothered  the  loving  heart  that  else  had  beat 


160  PHILO: 

From  shore  to  shore  of  the  wide  sea.     No  force 

Of  mind,  or  free-born  aim  did  it  create, 

Or  add  a  drop  of  water  to  your  harbors, 

Or  spark  of  virtue  to  the  character. 

The  soil  was  good,  and  iron  strong,  before 

As  since,  and  ink  as  black,  and  gold  as  golden, 

And  God  has  undergone  no  revolutions. 

Annie.    I  feel  the  sea-swell ;  we  have  left  the  bay, 
And  plunge  into  the  boundless,  dizzy  realm 
Of  surges,  boundless  as  our  hopes  ;  gray  night 
Doth  thicken  on  the  spumy  vision,  fear-like. 

Philo.     Shall  we  not  go  below  ? 

Faith.  The  stars  are  dawning, 

The  beacon  lights  begin  to  gleam. 

Annie.  The  breeze 

Is  cool ;  the  week's  beteeming  observation 
Has  spent  me.     Let  me  be  refreshed  a  while  ; 
The  City  's  out  of  sight,  the  capes  grow  dim. 

Love.     The  rocking  of  the  boat  disturbs  me  not. 

Annie.     Make  me  a  stoic  too  to  ills  marine. 
How  shouldst  thou  like  to  be  invisible, 
And  haunt  to-night  that  City  ? 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  161 

Love.  Let  it  sleep  ; 

Its  agitation  has  been  like  the  sea's. 
An  isle  in  that  rough  sea  was  the  Collation. 
Like  children  of  the  sunny  isle  were  those 
Who  met  in  that  great  room.     On  grassy  banks, 
In  healthfulness  and  heartfulness,  they  ate 
And  drank,  and  sung  and  spoke  ;  and  every  way 
Faith  turned  her  head  to  catch  the  silver  tones. 
One  gentleman  gave  Hope  a  sprig  of  flowers. 


Annie.     What  was  thy  thought 


Love.  I  wished,  and  how  I  wished  ! 

That  such  a  festival  were  magnified, 
And  to  the  Common  every  sect  would  bring 
Its  table,  all  luxuriate  in  love, 
The  roses,  white  and  red  of  conflict  long, 
And  vile  religious  enmities,  be  tied 
In  beautiful  bouquets  of  fellowship  ! 

Philo.     As  clouds,  and  to  their  windows  doves, 

God  grant 

We  all  may  flow  together,  and  be  enlarged  ; 
From  Sheba  come,  and  Midian,  and  Epha ! 
Annie,  the  last  faint  streak  of  day  goes  off; 
14* 


162  PHILO: 

But  in  the  gathering  night,  our  love  is  clear 
And  blithe  ;  and  as  we  travel  darkly  on, 
We  leave  a  pearly,  singing  wake  behind. 
Adieu,  dear  City !  with  thy  martyr  legions, 
And  all  in  thee  to  trust,  or  make  afraid. 
We  part  in  peace  ;  the  ceaseless  wave  break  soft 
On  thy  prophetic  shores,  lull  thy  repose, 
And  give  thee,  pleasant  dreams  to-night ! 

Charles.  Ho!  Philo, 

And  all  of  you,  come  to  the  cabin  ;  there 
Is  what  will  suit  you. 

Philo.  What  a  mess  is  this  ! 

Some  one  harangues  the  multitude. 

The  Speaker.  Give  me 

The  handling  of  these  subjects ;  I  can  tell 
Some  things  to  cure  your  sea-sickness,  if  so 
You  want  to  know. 

Philo.  I've  heard  that  voice  before. 

Annie.     His  chin  is  bushy  as  his  head,  and  red 
His  eyes  as  ferret's. 

Philo.  It's  the  Devil ;  he 

Of  whom  I  told  you. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  163 

Annie.  What,  the  Wandering  Jew  ? 

How  earnest !     Can  it  be  that  greedy  wretch  ? 

Charles.     I   brought   him    to   the    meetings  to 

convert 

Him  ;  he  has  gone  to  all,  and  now  comes  out 
A  crack  Reformer  ;  hear  him,  and  confess, 
Philo,  you  owe  me  one. 

The  Devil.  My  good  friends  all ! 

I  call  ye  friends,  because  ye  do  not  mind 
My  coarse,  rough  speech ;  I  am  not  used  to  talk 
To  ladies ;  hope  they  will  not  be  offended  ; 
Ye  do  not  understand  this  matter  ;  I 
Have  some  advantage  in  respect  of  facts. 
Ye  only  prick  a  pin  in  public  sores ; 
More  years  than  you  can  seconds  count,  I've  lived 
In  very  eye  and  kernel  of  them,  and 
Could  tell  your  pretty  orators  some  things 
Would  shake  their  fingers  till  those  rings  fell  off, 
And  make  the  city  coxcombs  roar,  Reform  ! 
Of  dungeons,  galleys,  stakes,  and  battle  fields, 
And    aches,  and  wrongs,  and    groans,  of  empires 

grand, 
With  all  their  people,  like  an  omnibus, 


164  THILO: 

Into  the  gutter  overturned.     I  saw 

Old  Rome  ;  and  Athens,  as  but  yesterday, 

I  call  to  mind,  and  how  the  citizens 

With  flags  and  shouts  to  the  Acropolis 

Did  crowd,  when  Pericles  from  Samos  came. 

I've  heard  shrieks  ages  long,  and  one  might  think 

The  blubbering  sea  a  sewer  of  human  brine, 

If  he  had  seen  as  many  cry  as  I  have. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  traded  once  in  tears, 

Employed  a  hundred  men  in  gathering  them, 

And  sold  them  to  the  Great  Ones  for  cosmetics. 

I've  looked  on  frozen  carcasses  of  babies 

Piled  up.  like  venison  on  a  hunter's  pung  : 

'Twas  in  the  Northern  wars.     There  never  rose 

The  day  when  to  the  hilt  I  could  not  thrust 

My  cane  in  human  agonies.     These  hands 

Have  held  hearts,  dead  men's  hearts,  all  in  a  twist 

With  torture  ;  some  on  which  distress  had  grown 

In  bunches  like  a  carbuncle.     I  could 

Take  scoundrels  up,  as  by  the  tail  a  snake, 

And  show  them  you,  if  you  desire  to  see. 

'  /  am  not  nice! '  —  not  like  your  plumed  ones,  no, 

Who  bang  dove-bosomed  girls,  as  egg-shells  smashed, 


AN     EVANGELIAD:  165 

And  cackle  of  the  deed,  disnatured  pullets ! 
For  months  ;  —  I've  seen  it  done  time  out  of  mind. 
A  Voice  in  the  Crowd.     Don't  mince  the  matter, 

friend ;  we'll  sit  here  till 

The  boat  goes  down,  or  we  would  miss  a  word. 
There's  no  catcalling,  only  now  and  then 
A  squeak  of  conscience,  as  a  frightened  mouse, 
While  you  plough  up  our  dull,  lethargic  souls. 
The  Devil.     I've  been  a  travelling  merchant  of 

distress, 

Cashed  desperation  ;  never  struck  a  blow, 
But  when  'twas  struck  I  pocketed  the  bruise. 
I've   fished  up  gains  from  streams  of  slain  men's 

blood  ; 

Ransacked  the  night  for  fetid  oaths  and  moans 
After  a  battle.     I  have  bought  the  hearts 
Of  youthful  lovers  slashed  with  bayonets, 
And  hearts  of  geniuses  that  slight  had  crisped 
Like  frost-bit  herbage,  and  philanthropists 
That  cunning  policy  had  roasted  ;  thirst 
And  hunger  I  have  picked  the  marrow  from, 
And  thrown  the  bones  away  ;  and  pains  from  men 


166  PHILO: 

I've  peeled,  like  tanner's  bark,  cords  in  a  week. 

'Twould  take  a  month  to  tell  of  gluttonies, 

And   jellied   whoredoms;    men   from    rum-shops, 
pitched 

Into  the  street.     I've  muckered  round  in  lanes, 

Ditches,  and  garrets,  hovels,  hospitals. 

I  am  excited ;  I  go  for  reform. 

Your  customs  need  to  moult,  come  out  bran  new  ; 

Mankind  are  saddle-galled,  put  on  green  leaves  ; 

Down,  down,  below  what  you  can  see  or  hear, 
The  wronged  ones  caiake  with  cold  ;  let  in  the  sun. 
When  Comfort  shakes  her  children  from  her  lap, 
And  Want  doth  wrench  the    shingles  from   your 

roofs, 

The  Times  in  pieces  fall,  like  an  old  cask, 
When  Rich  grow  poor,  and  Poor  are  hutched  with 

paupers, 

All  that  men  love,  or  hope,  or  wish,  winds  up 
In  hollow  ruin  ;  I  go  down  with  all, 
Down  to  the  bottom,  grub  among  the  settlings, 
For  that  has  been  my  avocation  ;  wherefore 
I  can  tell  ye,  there  is  no  music  there, 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  167 

Nor  dancing  ;  maidens  never  smile,  but  glout. 
And  stare  at  you  like  stupid  walruses. 
I  wish  I  was  a  man  like  ye,  I  do, 
Or  had  a  tongue  like  one  whom  I  heard  speak. 
But  I've  no  soul ;  yet  in  my  kidneys,  friends, 
I  feel  these  things  are  horrible  ;   and  how 
Men  with  souls  can  be  calm,  in  such  a  pass, 
Is  what  amazes  me.     Good  night,  farewell. 

Philo.     Annie,  to  thee,  good  night.     'Tis  time 
you  slept. 

Midnight. 

Annie.     I  could  not  sleep ;  my  berth  was  close 

and  hot. 

Philo.     And  so  you   risked  the  deck,  at   mid 
night,  dear  ? 
Annie.     With  you  there  is  no  risk,  for  you  are 

good; 
But  why  seek  you  no  rest  ? 

Faith.  He  staid  with  me, 

For  I  was  curious  to  see  the  boat ; 
And  fore  and  aft  we've  scanned  each  part,  while 
men 


168  PHILO: 

Have  slept.     The  furnace,  as  a  coil  of  lightnings, 
One  tended,  adding  fuel  to  what  seemed 
An  earthquake-spring  of  fire,  then  wiped  his  brow, 
And,  calm  as  a  child  by  its  mother's  chair, 
He  leaned  against  a  post,  and  smoked  and  slept. 
Along  the  gangways  men  were  sound  asleep, 
On    boxes,    trunks,    and    the    bare    planks    out 
stretched, 

As  undisturbed  as  in  their  cottage  beds. 
Across  the  howling  caverns  of  the  main, 
The  pilot  naively  took  the  boat,  as  boys 
Will  ride  a  horse  to  pasture.     This  I  ask, 
If  man  can  build  and  run  a  steamboat  thus, 
Shall  aught  to  him  appear  impossible? 
New  modes  of  life,  new  forms  of  faith,  new  steps 
In  Time's  old  march,  new  looms  in  factories 
Of  Love  and  Truth,  the  Social  Equity, 
Pure  governments,  and  all  that's  good  and  great  ? 
PMlo.     Some  Fulton  now,  I  ween,  elaborates 
Your  question  ;  soon  in  splendid  guise  shall  build 
Ideas,  through  the  currents  of  the  age 
Propel  his  novel  craft,  and  error  balk, 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  169 

And  wrong  o'ercome  by  facts  most  palpable, 
And  gentle  bravery  of  arithmetic. 

Annie.     The   stars  are   out,   all   out  ;   Heaven's 

Telegraph 

By  night.     What  the  intelligence,  dear  Faith  ? 
'Tis  thine  to  spell  the  twinkling  syllables. 

Faith.      It   is  the   same    old   word,  since    time 

began 

Repeated  seven  nights  a  week,  GOD  LOVETH  ! 
That  secret  hath  its  thread  within  thy  breast. 
Annie.       I    guessed    as   much  ;     while    I    have 

walked  the  deck 

This  dark  and  toppling  hour,  and  felt  what  flames 
Beneath  us  lie  in  wait,  and  seen  what  gulfs 
Around  us  crouched,  my  heart  looked  up  and  said, 
God  loveth !     Philo's  arm  about  me  stayed. 
Assures  the  same  ;  my  fears  upon  that  word 
Are  calm.     Let  fell  disorder  reign, 
And  whirl  us  to  that  dismal  sepulchre, 
Lashed  face  to  face,  we'd  sink,  sink  to  the  stars. 
Faith.     They    would    receive    thee    as    a  little 
star, 

15 


170  PHILO: 

Dropping  from  earth.     Philo,  this  talk  of  stars 
Suggests  another  piece  of  common  fame,- 
<  Astra*  Redux  : '  thou  hast  heard  the  tale. 
Some  call  it  superstition,  yet  I  think 
Such  signs  are  pleasing. 

Philo.  l  the  Pleasure  own' 

And  superstition  too  ;   the  omen  hail ; 
Believe  in  Justice  coming  back  to  man. 
This  vigilance  will  steal  away  your  strength, 
Annie,  if  aught  the  weary  week  has  spared. 
You  love  me  ? 

Annie.  Yes,  I  do. 

p;  •/  Obey  me  then, 

And  seek  your  berth,  and  I  will  mine  ;  once  more 

Endeavor  for  a  scantling  sleep. 

Two  things 
Annie. 

Rule  mortals,  love  and  sleep  ;  be  mortal  too 
To-night,  sweet  Faith,  and  come  and  sleep  with 

me. 

Morning. 

Annie.     I  wish  I  loved  yon  better,  Philo  ;  then 
I  would  be  sleeping  now.  nor  mind  the  rain. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  171 

Philo.     Were  you  awake,  you  would  see  how 

unlike 

Is  rain  to  fog,  which  daintily  detains  us  ; 
And  thank  me  for  the  knowledge,  albeit  you  loved 
Me  less.     Bells,  off  shore,  ring  our  cautious  course. 
Now  rapidly  the  sun  absorbs  the  mist  ; 
The  boat  moves,  we  approach  the  river's  mouth, 
The  gulls  are  screaming  over  rough  Seguin. 
The  green  firs  show  as  spectres  in  the  shadows. 

Annie.     There  is  Hydropathy  in  yonder  rock, 
Whereon  the  liquid  snow-drifts  plash  ;  all  baths, 
Head,  foot,  and  douche,  in  merry  unison. 
I'll  join  the  aquatiles,  when  I  can  take 
My  medicine,  insensate  as  that  stone. 

Philo.     We'll    get    a  party  here  next   August  ; 

then, 

I  think,  you'll  like  the  water  any  way. 
The  rugged  margin  of  the  ancient  Province 
I  can  commend,  and  all  New  England  too  ; 
The  grand  old  ocean  here,  and  there  man's  safe 
And  fertile  habitation ;  through  the  walls, 
The  smooth  road  runs,  that  never  needs  repairs. 


172  PHILO: 

The  people  crowd  on  deck,  as  to  a  meal, 
And  make  their  breakfast  on  the  beautiful. 
All  love  the  Beautiful :  remember  that ; 
Scribes,  pharisees,  the  shabby,  the  genteel, 
Betokening  descent  from  Paradise. 
That  fort  is  relic  of  the  Revolution  ; 
Last  summer,  on  its  grass-grown  parapet, 
I  saw  a  cow  reclined. 

The  Pastor.  A  thousand  years 

May  she  live  and  feed  there,  the  only  guard 
Of  our  domain ! 

Philo.     A  mackerel  boat !  that  risks 
The  main,  and  sits  among  the  mermaid  flocks, 
Fearless  as  Faith  in  swells  of  human  strife  ;  — 
The  cradle  of  our  seamen,  bold  and  stout, 
Whose  bowsprits,  as  a  shuttle,  back  and  forth, 
Shall  web  the  ocean  with  our  principles. 
The  region  roughens  near  the  sea,  and  springs 
Continuous  piers  of  gray,  storm-weathering  rock. 
As  we  go  inland,  softer  grows  the  scene  • 
The  highlands  shine  in  richer  verdure  dressed  ; 
Embayed  in  green  the  thrifty  farm  appears. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  173 

Through  forest-skirted  ponds  our  winding  course 
Is  laid  ;  and  now  a  shrub-edged  water- walk 
We  travel ;  salmon-wiers  we  pass,  and  booms 
Of  logs,  essays  of  our  Lake-school  of  Poets. 
Our  steamer  beating  with  a  quiet  pulse, 
The  beaded  ripple  crisping  on  the  shore, 
The  clear-obscure  of  many  a  silent  cove, 
The  steel-blue  splendor  of  the  stream,  the  sky 
So  blue  above,  the  clouds  voluptuous 
And  pure,  like  true  souls  in  their  hours  of  love, 
And  Annie  here,  with  the  angelic  Three, 
The  birds  that  keep  our  joys  in  countenance, 
These  nourishing  towns  we  see,  and  going  home, 
Our  village  elms,  whose  shadows  wait  for  us ;  — 
All,  all  are  beautiful,  and  beauty  lies 
With  happiness  and  virtue  in  our  eyes. 

SCENE  —  Within  the  Earth. 

Philo.     To-day  we  take  a  subterranean  road. 
Charles.      With   rebel    negroes   in    our   fellow 
ship  ? 

15* 


PHILO: 

Philo.     The  centre,  cause,  and  end  of  Earth  to 

scan  ; 
With  power  and  method  due  from  Gabriel. 

Charles.     Do  we    descend  head-first  ?     Enthu 
siasm, 

Grown  top-heavy,  in  stupid  speculation, 
Doth  it  turn  upside  down,  and  with  its  feet 
Fling  at  the  stars  ?     Our  visionary  needs 
Some  lead  upon  his  ankles. 

Philo.  By  a  step 

And  elevation  old  and  wont  we  wend. 
The  door  is  high  ;  this  stone-pit,  lately  oped, 
Our  adit.     Follow  we  this  gneiss  dip. 

Charles.     The  path  is  crooked,  turns  are  sharp 

and  frequent, 
Dikes  intercept  us,  seam  in  seam  is  snared. 

Philo.     Beneficence  of  God.     The  strata  cross, 
And  superpose,  they  brace  and  bind  ;  hence  strength 
Of  inward  frame,  and  outward  beauty,  use, 
Heights,  plains,  the  busy  stream,  the  sun-clad  pond. 

Charles.     A  silver  mine  !     Soft  you  !     Our  for 
tune  's  won. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  175 

This  merest  dust  has  some  analogies 
To  Heaven  ;  —  see,  streets,  trees,  streams,  gush  in 
gold! 

Charles.      In    faith,     'twill   make     our   ball    a 

lady-love, 

And  pietists  will  arm  in  her  behalf. 
'Twill  disenchant  Reform  ;  and  Luther  here 
Would  tarry,  til]  the  sun  went  down  on  Worms. 
More  sparkling  in  the  gray  recesses  !   Earth 
A  pudding  stuck  with  diamond  plums  ;  —  a  slice 
Our  juncate-loving  Poet  sooth  must  have. 

Philo.     Here  trip  we  on  the  roots  of  Pyrenees, 
Here  circumvent  the  pillars  of  the  sphere  ; 
How  rings  the  voice  in  this  still  labyrinth  ! 

Charles.     Is  Hell  more  hot  than  Wedgewood's 

twenty  score  ? 
Then  we  are  on  its  confines,  by  my  feelings. 

Philo.     What  antre  this,  illumined  from  the  sea 
With  dead-lights,  as  a  ship  ?     I  hear  a  sound 
Of  fire,  and  anvil-clangor  ;  —  Yulcan's  stithy  ? 

Annie.     An  ancient,  venerable  Form  stands  near 
The  forge. 


PHILO: 


Philo.         It  is  the  Genie  of  the  Earth, 
Whom  Gabriel  promised  we  should  find  this  way. 
Your  servants,  sir. 

The  Genie.     I  serve  unserved  ;  the  lone 
And  central  slave  and  seneschal  of  all 
This  bulk  of  dust  and  passion,  roots  and  graves. 
I  hammered  on  a  wedge,  as  you  came  in, 
To  raise  that  British  Isle  ;  it  sinks  a  doit. 

Charles.     Its    debt    is    heavy,    not   to    say    its 

preachers. 
The  Genie.     To  keep   on  even  terms  the  land 

and  water, 

And  foil  the  ocean  when  it  crowds  too  hard, 
Is  all  that  me  concerns. 

Charles.  That  Lisbon  quay 

You  swamped,  a  thousand  shrieks  extinguishing 
In  thousand  butts  of  instant  briny  ruin. 

The  Genie.     The  vapors  that    perspire  unend 

ingly, 

By  pores  innumerous,  in  every  part, 
Electric  fluids,  vital  air,  and  others, 
Infected  in  that  outer  human  realm, 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  177 

Returning  by  the  Poles,  are  all  drawn  through 
My  fining  pot,  where  I  cleanse  them  with  earths 
Of  subtile  sorts,  and  sea  water.     The  flame 
And  smoke  at  Stromboli  and  other  vents 
Discharge.     It  jars  a  little  j  never  mind. 
Your  base  is  henceforth  more  compact  and  firm. 
Besides,  I  see  the  currents  every  year 
Come  back  less  fusty. 

Charles.  Hope  for  you  !   dear  Philo, 

The  breath  of  man  is  growing  sweeter  ;  dose 
More  alkali  of  blest  Reform,  your  work 
Is  done. 

The  Genie.      But  these    are    trifles    not    worth 

naming. 

In  those  old  times,  before  your  race  was  known, 
It  was  no  joggle,  but  a  general  mash, 
And  all  the  elements  were  by  the  ears  ; 
No  coast-lifting,  but  slam  of  continents : 
America  did  tackle  Africa, 
Asia  dowsed  Europe,  islands  strangled  straits  ; 
And  dark  it  was,  so  dark  you  could  not  see 
Your  hand  before  your  face.     The  Animals 


178 


PHILO: 


Were  next  produced,  of  that  unseemly  size, 
Wrens  condor-like,  and  asps  like  crocodiles, 
Leviathan  and  Behemoth.     They  fed 
On  ling,  and  fattened  in  the  reeky  fens. 
Through  fume  and  fog  the  sun  did  faintly  ooze. 
In  the  warm  sludge  weeds  grew  to  forests  rank. 
These  orders  perished ;  flesh  and  reed,  in  caves 
I  buried  them,  or  strowed  upon  the  land, 
To  brew  the  vegetable  stimulus. 
The  ages  mellowed,  on  the  cycles  flew, 
Working  incessant  change  in  principles 
And  forms.     I  waited  on  the  dissolutions, 
Ground    hills    on   hills,    and    mixed    the    various 

loam  ; 

I  strained  the  seas  to  dress  the  virgin  fields, 
Injected  ores  among  the  liquid  rocks, 
Smothered  the  thickets  with  the  fiery  mountains, 
And  sealed  up  endless  granaries  of  coal. 
I  made  a  pretty  spot  for  Adam,  green 
And  sunny.     'T would  have  ta'en  your  eye  to  see 
The  noble  man,  and  gentle  lady,  Eve. 
Fawns  gambolled,  linnets  piped  unto  the  lovers, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  179 

Clover  and  daisies  all  their  walks  besnowed ; 
And  the  good  God  said  every  thing  was  good.  — 
Folk  should  not  build  too  near  my  chimney-caps, 
Keep  off  high  lava  mark,  look  out  for  floods  ; 
I  rap  the  walls  betime,  alarum  sound ; 
No  fear  of  slumping  in  ;  you  see  what  piers, 
And  solid  groins,  and  porphyritic  bonds. 
I  hear  a  blast,  —  they  work  an  iron  mine 
I  tucked  away  between  the  schist  and  slate. 
Follow  that  path,  and  climb  the  rugged  sides 
Of  Wales,  and  you  will  find  it.     Fare  ye  well.  — 
Philo.     Here  enter  we  the  silent  realms  of  Art ; 
Strong   arms  the   pickaxe   wield,  some  churn  the 

drill. 

Up  slippery  ways  the  loaded  basket  's  borne, 
And  lanterns  shed  a  kindly  ray  throughout 
This  gloomy  nether  world. 

Charles,.  The  upper  world 

Is  a  more  dismal  mine  in  depths  of  Fate  j 
The  Hate-damp  there,  the  Fire-damp    here,  blast 

life 
And  light  ;  all  work  in  shade  and  end  in  slough. 


180  PHILO: 

Annie.     One  has  a  feeling  of  Infinity, 
In  this  low  spot,  and  church-wise  worshippeth. 
I  should  fear,  Philo,  if  I  did  not  love. 

Charles,     There's  jollity  withal,  Anacreontic, 
O'er  ale  pots,  and  Dutch  scent  of  ham  and  krout. 

Philo.     Ride  we  up  in  the  bucket,  and  pursue 
This   metal.      Scores   of    lumbering   wains    con 
duct 

Us  to  the  Smelting  House  and  Foundry.     There 
The  cupolas  in  Theban  pillars  rise, 
The  slag  in  hills,  unnoted  on  our  maps. 
Annie,  go  in,  uncowardized  by  dust, 
Or  swarthy  men,  or  creaking  engines  ;  bright 
And  plastic  spirit  doth  inhabit  here  ; 
As  clean  as  lightning  in  a  reeky  cloud 
It  shines  betimes.     The  bellows  roar  with  lungs 
Of  tempests,  rings  the  dressing  like  a  gong  ; 
Some  ram  the  flasks,  and  some  the  ladle  drain. 
Charles.     The  red-hot  globules  fly  as  if  they 

were 

Afraid  of  being  burnt  ;  your  spirits  gleam 
Like  dingy  spectres  with  their  sleeves  turned  up. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  181 

Annie.      This   man   unearths  a  stove,   all   ara^ 

besqued, 
And  daintily  inlaid  with  birds  and  flowers. 

Philo.     Its  history  forenote  ;  that  stove  doth  plait 
The  Borean  zone  with  tissue  of  the  Line  ; 
Our  snowbound  parlors,  windows  intersprigged 
With  frost,  it  renders  quite  Arcadian  ; 
It  shelters  poverty,  and  tends  the  sick, 
Relieves  the  body,  purifies  the  soul  ; 
In  winter  nights  those  iron  birds  will  sing 
Unto  our  Poet,  and  the  flowers  distil 
Castalian  sweets. 

Charles.  Like  taxes,  toothache,  tides, 

A  stove  has  no  respect  of  persons.     Once, 
At  a  vendue,  I  saw  a  horse-faced  preacher, 
A  skipjack  transcendentalist,  a  lean 
And  muzzy  artist,  barbers,  scullions,  trulls, 
Bidding  against  each  other  for  an  Olmsted. 

Philo.     Go   we    home    and   still   ruminate    our 

theme. 

A  nail  —  no  nails,  then  no  Phalansteries  ; 
The  covered  walk  and  classic  corridor 
16 


182  PHILO: 

Come  up  from  many  fathoms  under  ground ; 

And  powder,  pulleys,  hubbub,  grime,  and  sweat, 

Evolve  the  long-delayed  Unity. 

The  knife  that  mends  your  most  aesthetic  pen, 

A  clump  of  ore,  just  tumbled  from  a  cart. 

Your  seamstress'  needle,  packed  with  coke  and  lime, 

Within  the  caldron  seethes.     The  press  that  sows 

Our  Gospel,  thick  as  sunbeams,  on  the  world, 

Is  rifted  from  a  ledge.      Earth  is  a  shell 

Of  spiritual  kernels.     Culture,  progress,  hope 

Are  troglodytal  in  their  origin. 

The  iron  rail  and  graded  avenue 

Behold !  from  Othosk  to  Seville  ;  the  phlangc, 

Now  leaping  rivers,  worming  now  through  hills, 

Beareth  the  nuptial  torch  of  Pole  and  Pole ! 

That  cooper  hoops  the  straggling  empires.     Earth, 

Reaching  from  low,  Plutonic  depths,  conducts 

Her  mottled  children  to  each  other's  doors. 

This  budding  orb  doth  open  every  morn, 

And  woo  the  maiden  eye  of  Love.     The  Tree 

Of  Life  beneath  the  wells  of  Artois  sinks, 

To  junction  of  the  hemispheres  descend 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  183 

Its  roots,  and  marrow  draw  from  fossil  bones. 
The  prone  is  up,  humility  exalts; 
On  flashy  pinnacles  perdition  vaults. 

SCENE  —  The  Margin  of  a  Forest. 
The  Poet,  (alone.) 

Here  is  the  rock,  most  opportune  and  kind. 
I'll  sit  upon  it  •  —  lay  my  herbal  there, 
My  fishing-rod  stand  here  ;  fond  wallet  mine, 
Most  timely  comforter,  command  my  lap. 
This    flat-branched,    wide-encircling    beech     shall 

shade 

My  head,  and  wait  upon  the  pilgrim's  rest. 
How  long,  O  Rock,  hast  been  a  settler  here  ? 
What  storms  hast  weathered  for  the  Poet's  sake ! 
What  pre-Adamic  prudence  scooped  thee  out, 
Preparing  me  a  smooth  and  easy  seat  ? 
When  human  vanities  have  sickened  me, 
I  cleave  to  thee ;  when  worldly  promise  balks, 
Thy  grit  is  steadfast ;  Friendship,  Fortune,  Fame, 
Miscarry,  thy  support  is  good  for  aye. 


184  PHILO: 

In  childhood's  lavish  years  I  climbed  thy  sides, 

Leaped  from  thy  summit ;  now,  in  middle  life, 

Gray  hairs  my  head,  and  grayer  thoughts  my  heart 

Besprinkling,  I  would  fain  repose  on  thee. 

David  his  harp  enjoyed,  I  thrum  a  rock ; 

Petrarch  his  Laura  had,  I  have  a  rock  ; 

Our  Pastor  loves  a  horse,  but  I  a  rock. 

When  speculation  wearies  me,  to  thee, 

O  Rock,  I  come  ;  aloose  in  dizziness 

Of  wild  imaginings,  I  clutch  thy  base. 

In  hurly-burly  of  the  times,  thy  crags 

Thou   liftest,    stiff,  serene.       Though    all    things 

melt 

In  Ideality,  or  Anarchy 
O'erwhelm  the  state,  thy  alumine  endures. 
These  trees  shall  perish,  empires,  races,  times ; 
O  Rock,  thou  livest ;  shalt  live  when  the  birds 
And  every  quick  are  silent  in  the  dust  ; 
Kind  Nature's  monumental  tribute,  raised 
Amid  the  boundless  solitude  of  ruin.  - 
What  noise  is  that  ?     What  rustles  on  the  leaves  ? 
A  dainty  hare  or  brood  of  partridges  ; 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  185 

Let  me  give  chase :  I  will  divide  the  game 
Among  my  friends,  and  win  reluctant  bays  ; 
Since  viands  flatter  e'en  if  verses  fail. 
'Tis  Wynfreda  !  my  God,  the  Lady  fair  ! 
That  white-robed  lustrousness  of  womankind. 
The  same  dark  hair  pours  down  the  same  white 

breast, 

The  same  fair  hand  sustains  the  same  fair  brow. 
What  dreams  she  ?  thinks  she  ?    What    excursion 

make 

Her  eyes  ?  what  meditation  parts  her  lips  ? 
Is  it  a  spirit,  captive  in  the  woods  ? 
Can  flesh  so  counterfeit  ideal  stuff? 
Shall  I  speak  to  it  ?     Will  it  answer  me  ? 
Maybe  a  fancy  of  my  o'erteased  brain  ;  — 
O  Rock,  imspell  me. 

Wynfreda.  Nearer,  Poet-friend, 

Come  to  me,  lover  mine. 

The  Poet.  Be  pitiful, 

O  Lady  bright ;  do  not  elude  my  step, 
Or  mock  my  sorrows. 

Wynfreda.  I  am  sorrowful. 

16* 


186  PHILO: 

The  Poet.     Wilt  not  command  a  faithful  min 
istry  ? 

Wynfreda.     The  cup  of  vanity  I  cannot  drink. 

The  Poet.     Who,  loving  thee,  would  offer  it  ? 

I  kneel, 
O  Lady. 

Wynfreda.     Rise,  sir,  rise. 

The  Poet.  I  kiss  thy  hand. 

Wynfreda.     Thou  mayest. 

The  Poet.  Thou  art  mine. 

Wynfreda.  Thou  art  not  mine. 

The  Poet.     Mysterious  woe  ! 

Wynfreda.  Mysterious  woe  ! 

The  Poet.  Thou  canst 

Resolve  it.     The  perplexity  is  weft 
Of  thy  own  fashioning. 

Wynfreda.  From  thee  the  threads 

Are  spun.  —  Ascend  we  to  that  glade  ;  the  flowers 
Look  out  upon  the  sun,  and  there  the  earth 
Respires  expansive  through  the  tangled  copse. 

The  Poet.     Thou  wilt  escape. 

Wynfreda.  Nay,  do  not  hinder  me. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  187 

The  Poet.     I  cannot  let  thee  go. 

Wynfreda.  Wilt  not  go  too  ? 

The  Poet.     Birdlike,  before  my  aim  evanishing, 
How  can  I  follow  thee  ?  how  overtake 
Thy  misty  step  ?  —  Let  me  withdraw  :   wilt  thou 
Come  after  ? 

Wynfreda.     On  thy  track  I  oft  have  staid. 

The  Poet.     O  veiled,  and  beautiful,  and  much 

desired ! 

A  shadow  passing  through  the  Poet's  dream, 
A  cunning  hint  of  solid  good  withheld, 
A  reminiscence  irrecoverable, 
Night-blooming,  well-deep,  bubble-swelling  joy, 
A  wood-thrush  note  of  hope,  a  cold,  fair  moon,  — 
O  finger-tip  embrace !   O  arms  of  sand  ! 

Wynfreda.     These  expletives  forego  j  thy  pas 
sion  wooes  me  not ; 

'Tis  harsh  and  brief.     Youth's  first  emotions  need 
A  stint ;  must  oaken  up  to  manliness. 
Can  you  sleep  out  o'  nights  alone,  in  cold 
And  haunted  darkness  of  the  world  ?  intact 
Of  rheum  and  spleen,  abide  autumnal  rains  ? 


188  PHILO: 

The  frost  must  pinch  the  nut,  or  'twill  not  sprout. 

One  cannot  study  in  the  sunshine  ;  clouds 

Are  tutelary  •  trees  late  to  blow  are  late 

To  fade.    Thy  first  essays  were  rhyme,  not  rhythm ; 

Next  rhythm,  not  song  ;  then  song,  not  Poetry. 

In  thy  imagination  some  conceits 

Went  loose,  as  vesicles  of  air  j  and  these, 

Exposed  in  sonnets,  were  your  prettiest  smiles. 

And  classic  sighs  to  catch  your  mistress'  ear. 

Your  heart  no  living  fire  of  Poetry 

Engirded,  you  were  not  in  blaze  of  love. 

The  simplers  pluck  our  Poets  in  their  flower, 

Vapors  to  cure,  promote  euthanasy, 

Preventing  fruit  and  yellow  harvest  time. 

Humanity  doth  rarely  find  its  verse, 

Except  as  musings  in  its  castles  hoar, 

Or  idyl  sunshine  on  its  rustic  vales. 

After  a  shipwreck,  music  of  the  bard 

Is  heard  up  in  the  mountains,  as  relate 

Those  Grison  peasantry.     The  light  of  him 

Of  Newstead,  burned  as  camphene  lamps,  diffused 

A  graceful  shower  of  soot  all  o'er  the  globe. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  189 

Inhabit  life  as  eremites  their  cells  ; 
Foray,  as  bees  ;  assotte  your  generous  ends  ; 
Dam  Nature's  streams,  and  fill  the  idle  flumes 
Of  Progress ;  through  the  ice-blocks  of  a  dull 
And  stagnant  form  in  sparkling  crystals  shoot ; 
Load  with   your    wares    the    vacant    wharves  of 

thought ; 

Grow  up  an  Epic ;  even  let  your  feet 
Disclose  your  royal  birth,  as  once  a  prince, 
Whose  rustic  guise  had  else  deceived  his  captors ; 
To  El  Dorado,  Martinez  was  led 
Blindfold  ;  advance,  albeit  your  way  is  dim. 
In  this  swift,  bell-toned  brook,  I  thee  baptize. 
And,  Poet  dear,  I've  known  thy  works  and  ways, 
Have  seen  the  gift  divine  ;  yea,  more  than  gift,  — 
The  nature,  power,  and  virtual  element 
Creating  thee  ;  the  Poet  of  the  Poet's  self  ; 
Corering  thy  diction  bald  with  glossy  curls, 
And  chiselling  thy  taste  to  fairest  moulds ; 
Seen  thee  turn  sawdust  into  allegory, 
Beauty  discover  in  a  green  baize  coat, 
Render  just  meed  to  honest  affluence, 


190  PHILO: 

Extend  thy  arms  to  hostile  opposites, 
And  hook  the  broken  chains  of  interest, 
Patient  with  ignorance  and  pedantry  ; 
In  riding,  with  the  driver  sit,  and  save 
The  landscape,  and  economize  the  road ; 
Find  life  in  charred  stumps,  and  culture  fetch 
From  the  new  settlements. 

Ah  !  Poet  dear, 

I  languish  in  environments  ;  my  gyves 

Are  wearing  me  in  slow  suspense  away. 

On  thee  my  ransom  's  poised  ;  thy  gallant  truth, 

Thy    earnest    depth,    thy    troop   of   well-drilled 


verse 


Alone  can  conquer  that  which  conquers  me. 

A  waiter-woman,  gross  and  vile,  is  set 

About  me,  brutish  wealth  attempts  my  hand. 

This  bandit  circumstance  thy  melodies 

Can  shake,  and  end  my  sensuous  alarms. 

My  heart  thine  pants  for,  thine  my  love  espies, 

No  other  flatteries  shall  me  distrain. 

Yet  seek  me  not ;  the  forest  fell,  —  as  flowers, 

I  spring  up  in  thy  path ;  break  down  the  walls 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  191 

Of  dominant  disdain,  and  I  am  free  ; 

And  every  where  we'll  spread  our  bridal  couch. 

The  Poet.     O  Lady  fair,  how  long  ? 

Wynfreda.  To-day,  to-morrow. 

The  Poet,  (alone.)    'To-morrow!'     This  fore 
noon,  and  yesterday, 
And  everlastingly,  O  Rock,  art  thou 
At  hand  ;  thy  ready  flint  bespeaks  me  comfort. 
On  thee  the  wronged  Indian  wept  his  fate, 
On  thee  dismated  finches  troll  their  griefs  ; 
Shall  I  too  weep  ?     The  grass  is  green  about, 
On  this  harsh  surface  soft  the  mosses  lie. 
Sternness  and  immobility,  O  Rock, 
Give  me,  that  still  shall  bear  some  gentle  thing. 
Withal,  be  ballast  of  my  honest  pen, 
As,  overhauled,  it  puts  to  sea  again. 

SCENE  —  Parlor  at  Annie 's. 

Annie.     Tell   me    of   what  befell    your   recent 

jaunt. 

Philo.     The  Alleghanies  we  ascended,  there 
Composed  exertion,  and  refreshed  our  heat. 


1 92  P  H I L  0  : 

We   drank   those   bubbling    streamlets,  that,  four- 
cleft, 

Descending  either  flank,  inundant,  gleam, 
And  intervein  the  vast  imperial  fields. 
A  stranger  vision  challenged  our  regards,  — 
It  was  the  Genius  of  America 
From  the  Blue  Ridge  appearing  ;  slow  he  rose, 
And  solemn,  as  a  saint,  with  prophet  beard, 
And  broad  and  marble  brow,  discovering  half 
His  form,  and  half  immixed  in  cloud.     His  hand 
He  waved,  and  people  gathered  unto  him. 
The  nation,  personal  or  legatine, 
Was  there.     The  sunny  South  and  fertile  West 
Poured  forth.     From  Accomac  the  rally  came, 
Presque  Isle  and  the  Old  Bay  and  Mackinaw  ; 
They  packed  the  vales,  and  mantled  all  the  hills. 
Music  the  deep  and  vivid  silence  eased, 
A  choral  hymn,  from  the  thin  air  it  pealed, 
And  effigies  of  angels  were  the  singers. 
Then  prayed  the  Genius,  fervently  and  rapt, 
As  Moses  prayed  for  Israel  in  Sinai. 
Repent! — such    was   his    text  —  God's    kingdom 
comes. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  193 

Americans,  immortals,  men  ;    discoursed 
He  thus ;  Ye  Pilgrim  sons  and  Huguenot, 
Or  sprung  from  polished  loins  of  Chivalry, 
Archprimates  of  the  realm,  Precedency 
Potential,  give  ear ;  ye  are  sinners  all, 
Highgoing,  inexculpable,  confessed. 
The  fulness  of  events  in  Jewry  'gan 
Ye  hinder.     He,  your  Lord  and  King,  would  come 
In  clouds,  in  clouds  of  summer  beauty  dressed, 
An  over-cloud  of  new  Transfigurement, 
His  Truth  investing,  as  a  lambent  flame, 
Your  dwelling-places,  on  your  hills  his  Love 
Dawning  a  golden  Orient.     Revealed 
In  you,  his  face  would  shine  afresh,  and  Earth 
Reflect  the  Son  of  God ;  his  Advent  be 
As  lightnings,  flashing  from  the  eyes  of  men. 
Ye  sin  and  darken  all  the  life  divine, 
Smother  the  rising  brightness  of  your  God. 
The  face  of  Jesus,  personal  in  you, 
Ye  smut  with  murders,  drunkenness,  and  strife  ; 
The     road     where    he     would     make    triumphal 
entrance, 

17 


194  PHILO: 

Cumber  with  fierce  dragoons  and  gangs  of  slaves ; 

Your  spirits,  that  his  own  would  beautify, 

Ye  mire  in  passions  vile  ;  rejecting  crowns 

Immortal,  trick  yourselves  in  spoils  of  office. 

Ye  wage  a  war  more  foul  than  Lucifer 

In  Heaven ;  he  broke  with  God,  and  so  have  ye  ; 

He  did  not  sell  his  fellows  ;  that  ye  do, 

And  push  by  arms  your  worse  than  devilish  trade. 

Ye  build  with    Rome,  with    Rome    ye    must    go 

down  ; 

Ye  copy  ages  past,  with  them  are  plunged 
In  one  perdition  ;  bastions  rear  to  fall 
In  vengeful  crash  on  your  own  heads ;  disown 
Jehovah's  name,  and  trust  in  man's  device. 
The  just  ye  ostracize,  the  honest  scoff. 
True  patriots  supplant  with  sycophants. 
Palmyra's  dust  already  strows  your  streets, 
Your  history  is  gathering  leprous  spots, 
Your  robes  of  empire  smell  of  charnel  mould. 
Dear  people  all  !  ye  know  not  what  ye  do  ; 
How  hope  in  all  the  earth  for  you  is  troubled  ; 
The  Westward  Star  declineth  in  its  place, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  195 

Perplexing  earnest  eyes  that  sail  by  it. 

Beneath  you  coal-beds  lie,  —  of  what  avail  ? 

In  every  acre  is  a  priceless  pearl,  — 

Who  heeds  it  ?     Think  upon  your  ways,  reform 

Your  doings.     Give  the  Indians  homes,  enfeoff 

Those  nomades ;  free  your  slaves ;  unhand  the  soil. 

Repent  and  shun  dismantlement  of  doom  ; 

Few  years  have  done  for  you  the  work  of  ages, 

By  forelock  ye  have  ta'en  degeneracy, 

And  copied  ills  ye  had  not  time  to  grow. 

Ye  ministers  of  Christ !  how  dare  ye  thin 

Eternal  truth  with  weak  expediency, 

And  tickle  prurient  ears  with  feathered  words, 

Raise  dust  in  eyes  of  a  pursuing  God  ? 

Repent !  let  renovation  work,  and  your 

High  Destiny  speed  on  ;  your  Gothic  force, 

And  plastic  energies,  accelerate 

The  Chiliad  of  Hope  and  Prophecy. 

Your  sea-gates  to  the  nations  wide  unfurl, 

Your  Rocky  Mountains  turn  to  lithophanes 

Of  freedom  ;  Northern  Lakes  for  fountains  bore, 

And  here  a  jet  appoint,  whose  skyward  flight, 


196  PHILO: 

Recoiling  liquid  arcs  and  gay  colures, 

Shall  charm  the  sight  of  millions,  and  revive 

The  desert  face  of  tins  great  nation's  virtue. 

Charter  your  navy  for  the  voyage  of  love  ; 

Disband  your  armies,  or  in  mercy's  name 

Commission  them,  to  help  the  beggary 

And  close  the  springs  of  vice  your  rule  creates  ; 

Your  revenues,  in  schools,  arts,  parks,  disburse  ; 

Raise  a  millennial  arch,  through  which  the  Lord 

Of  this  Young  World,  and  all  his  train  of  grace, 

May  pass.     Thus  spake  he,  handling  themes  like 

these. 

Annie.     In   what   complexion  stood   the  multi 
tude  ? 
Philo.     Some   said  an  Angel  spake,  and  some, 

the  Gods 

Were  come  to  dwell  with  men  ;  some  marvelled  if 
These  things  were  so.     The  slaves,  throughout  the 

grounds 

Dispersed,  applauded,  while  their  masters  ah'd 
In  silence  ;   Indians  rose  majestical, 
And  many  whites  slunk  abject  at  their  feet. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  197 

A  pompous  commodore  did  grind  the  sward 
With  his  boot-heel,  as  if  beneath  him  lay 
The  seven  deadly  sins,  and  he  his  rank 
Forgot  to  crush  the  vipers.     One  cried,  Treason  ! 
That  word,  Actseon  whelp,  to  his  own  soul 
Returned  ;  he  went  pale,  panting,  thin,  and  fell 
Beneath  the  fanged  onslaught  of  his  sin. 
A  politician  rent  his  hair,  and  wept 
Forthwith  the  music  sounded  long  and  loud, 
Reverberant  through  the  clear  breadth  of  space, 
As  the  celestial  circles  twanged  unseen, 
And  touched  the  surly  core  in  every  breast. 
Meanwhile,  above  the  horizon  appearing 
From  woofy  clouds  that  doze  on  summer  hills, 
Denied  the  Genii  of  every  land. 
In  sackcloth  part,  and  part  with  rotted  girdles, 
Others  wrere  veiled.     Within  his  arms  one  nursed 
The  Vestal  urn  extinct ;  one  bore  half-furled 
A  faded  gonfalon  ;  while  four  sustained 
A  pall  ;  one  with  a  star  was  crowned,  the  star 
Of  the  Nativity  ;  on  his  white  lips 
Another  pressed  his  finger  wistfully. 
17* 


198  PHILO: 

The  foremost  clutched  his  beard,  and  fired  his  eye, 

Black  and  severe,  among  the  gaping  host. 

Outspoke  he  thus :    Americans,  beware  ! 

From  graves  of  nations  are  we  come,  to  yours 

If  ye  will  have  it  so.     For  headstones  stand 

The  ages  ;  running  to  the  birth  of  time, 

In  shadowy  lines,  the  mouldering  columns  stretch. 

Are  ye  deceasing  ?     Shall  we  gather  up 

Your  eagle-flag,  through  endless  wanderings 

To  bear  it  in  our  melancholy  arms  ? 

The  Evil  Spirit  lies  in  ambuscade 

Among  these  States.     Americans,  beware  ! 

Direct,  our  Eagle,  slowly  drifting,  came 

In  sight :  he  halted,  backwards  wheeled,  ensnarled 

His  stately  spires,  as  if  he  were  besot  ; 

Relaxed  his  talons,  let  the  arrows  fall  ; 

Fitful  he  sprang,  by  lurches  swept  aloft, 

As  he  would  dash  against  the  sky  and  perish. 

Down  dropped  he,  feet  first,  with  his  pinions  shut, 

Down  like  a  bullet  ;  now,  his  poise  regained, 

He  darted  off  afield,  and  disappeared. 

Returning,  in  his  beak  an  olive  leaf 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  199 

He  bore.     The  Genii  acclaimed  so  loud, 
The  echoes  doubled  in  the  nether  world. 
These  visions  vanished,  and  the  people  all. 
And  while  I  gazed,  the  day  being  nearly  spent, 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  the  holy  Trinity, 
As  three  snow-bodiced  schooners  on  our  coast 
Were  wafted  by,  in  midair  floating  on, 
These  circuiteers  swang  noiseless  on  the  wind, 
The  twilight  shimmering  their  muslin  vesture  ; 
As  if  the  anxious  land  had  laid  its  head 
To  rest,  and  they  kept  watch  about  its  bed. 

SCENE  —  The  Air. 
Love  and  Nemesis. 

Love.       O     Night-nursed,     sin-hunter,      proud 

Q,ueen  of  gloom, 

Put  back.     Anoint  thy  wiry  locks  ;  an  couldst, 
Thou  wouldst  be  jovial ;  do  smile  for  once, 
Give  thy  eternal  frown  a  holiday. 

Nemesis.     Delay  me  not ;  behind  the  pack  are 
yelping,  — 


200  JPHILO: 

Fire,  Famine,  Pestilence,  and  Anarchy. 
Canst  sop  the  thunder?     Will  damnation  coo 
And  bill  you  as  a  dove  ?     Thou  know'st  the  Law. 

Love.     Multipotent  in  pain  !  thou  art  not  chief. 
'Bove  woe,  and  me,  and  thee,  there  is  a  God  ; 
He  willeth  not  perdition,  but  reform. 
Wilt  be  before  with  him  ?     Didst  thou  invent 
His  thought  ?     If  of  his  counsel,  know  he  grants 
Us  grace  ;  his  Son  has  pleaded,  judgment  stays. 

Nemesis.     Have  I  not  seen,  not  heard  ?     Canst 

thou  divert 

The  scent  of  trained  vengeance  ?     Why  are  owls 
Abroad  ?     What  means  the  raven  on  that  pine  ? 
Precursive  sickness  blasts  the  needful  crops. 
E'en  goodness'  self  cries  fury  on  its  foes, 
And  ravaged  innocence  bemoans  to  heaven. 
How  long  hast  been  awake  ?     Thou  wert  asleep. 
What  tares,  midtime,  were  sown,  thou  wottest  not. 

Love.     Methought   I   woke    to   hope,    and   not 

despair. 

Auspicious  hands  aroused  me  ;  better  days 
Seemed  near. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  201 

Nemesis.     Fond  hoper,  them  art  drowsing  still ! 
In  thy  forbearance,  Love,  the  globe  itself 
Would  spoil,  its  arid  rocks  with  vermin  swarm. 
We  cannot  trifle,  stop  to  prick  the  sleep 
Of  gluttons,  sow  catarrhs  in  thin-soled  shoes. 
We  come  the  age  to  scourge,  and  execute 
The  races,  nations,  lands. 

Love.  The  whole,  in  bulk, 

The  fresh-toned  child,  and  brazen  sin  of  man, 
Do  thy  intentions,  indiscrete,  impeach  ? 

Nemesis.     The   babe    is   fattened   on   inhuman 

milk ; 

The  wooden-sworded  stripling  hath  the  vice 
Of  Cassar  j  ruffian  banners  are  emblazed 
By  velvet-fingered  girls.     E'en  terms  are  lost, 
And  language  hath  revolted.     To  invade, 
They  call  protection  ;  maintenance  of  right, 
Is  perpetration  of  all  damning  deeds. 
Cathedrals  shake  with  gory  canticles  ; 
Depauperation  gallops  into  town 
On  back  of  sleek  and  well-fed  opulence. 
Why  aid  the  scandalous  engendering, 


202  PHILO: 

Transmit  the  venom  to  posterity, 
Go  pandering  between  the  faithless  years  ? 
Let  death  arise,  and  forfeit  life  devour, 
Let  havoc  smite  the  fabrics  of  deceit, 
And  chaos  calm  the  long  and  godless  strife. 

Love.     O  atrabilious,  sour-eyed  kith  of  doom  ! 
The  light  blinds  thee,  as  an  untimely  bat ; 
Thy  Acherontic  sense  distastes  a  rose. 
Wcrt  at  the  Deluge,  didst  not  see  the  Bow  ? 
Hast  never  heard  of  Calvary's  sweet  blood  ? 
O,  awful  Justice  !  deer-foot  Retribution ! 
Do  not  hard-mouth  me  so  ;  hist  there  thy  dogs  ; 
They  gnash  on  me  ;  I  give  thee  no  affront. 
I  too  have  seen  and  heard.  —  Incensive  man  ! 
His  guilt  is  great,  too  great  for  estimation, 
Beyond  punition,  haply  ;  baffling  thee, 
Like  dead  men's  dust.  —  Give  ear,  O  Pursuivant  ! 
There  are  who  painfully  bemoan  the  times ; 
Repentance  sobbeth  as  its  heart  would  break, 
Remorse  doth  cut  the  vital  force  of  lies, 
In  sin's  broad  way  a  deep  alarm  hath  spread  ; 
The  Hopeful  put  their  hands  unto  their  ears, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  203 

And  hearken  for  the  sound  of  wheels,  not  thine, 

O  Ineluctable,  but  his,  the  Prince 

Of  Peace.     Stand  by,  thou  mighty  Fate,  and  let 

A  Mightier  exert  his  saving  arm. 

With  fuller's  soap  he  shall  our  vileness  wash, 

Our  constitutions  thresh,  and  fan  our  state ; 

Through  greed,  and  craft,  and  lust,  and  hardest  rind 

Of  our  besetments,  leading  up  to  life 

And  light  our  aspirations  ;  smoking  flax 

Of  sorrow  he'll  not  quench,  or  break  the  reed 

Of  tender  virtue.     Stern,  sublime,  give  way ; 

Thy  presence  will  our  noble  women  fray. 

SCENE  —  A  Winter's  Ride. 
Pkilo,  Annie,  and  Spirit  of  Love. 

Philo.     Wilt  ride  with  us  ?  a  school  intendency 
Takes  me  abroad. 

Love.  The  purpose  pleases  me. 

Philo.     Our  Winter  's  kind,  though  rigorous  and 

long  ; 
Its  discipline  is  good,  and  works  in  us 


204  PHILO: 

A  lasting  and  a  noble  energy. 
Within  its  terms,  as  in  its  icicles, 
Is  beauty  too  ;  and  singular  delights, 
With  every  sort  of  social  harmony. 
This  season  brings  our  produce  to  the  market, 
And  loads  of  richest  thought  to  every  mind. 
The  brook  runs  free  and  clear  beneath  the  ice  ; 
The  soul,  in  furs,  has  a  pellucid  face. 
What  railroad  can  surpass  this  glittering  track  ? 
The  horse's  feet  spin  pleasant  roundelays,  - 
A  winter-bird  that  chirrups  in  its  flight 
Is  this  our  swift-sped  runner.     See  those  sheep ; 
They  keep  an  open  foot-path  through  the  snow, 
Narrow,  and  winding,  as  a  forest  walk, 
Down  to  the  spring,  at  bottom  of  the  field  ; 
True  seekers,  humble,  patient,  undismayed, 
They  trudge  along,  and  never  mind  the  weather 
Annie.     There  is  a  leaf,  that  yellow,   autumn 

leaf, 

Dear  Philo,  on  the  snow  ;  it  trembles,  starts  ; 
Away  it  goes,  and  in  a  thicket  hides. 

Love.     For  ages,  Annie,  such  my  lot,  to  skim 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  205 

Across  Siberian  surface  of  the  world. 

The  Day  is  coming  that  shall  melt  all  hearts  j 

In  sweetest  dissolution  I  shall  die, 

Still  being  vital  in  the  life  of  all. 

What  house  is  that  ? 

Philo.  'Tis  an  Inebriate's. 

The  rafters  through  the  roof,  like  Hunger's  ribs, 
Are  splitting  ;  in  the  wind,  the  clapboards  thwack, 
As  they  would  drum  up  Hell  its  carnival 
To  hold  on  this  debauched  farm. 

Annie.  The  hens, 

Poor  things,  have  lost  their  legs,  or  use  but  one, 
As  'twere  a  crutch.     Is  that  result  of  drink  ? 

Philo.     Their  feet  they  pocket  in  their  wings  to 

warm. 

Shall  we  go  in  ?     Upon  the  hearth  is  sprawled 
The  man,  or  husband,  so  in  law  benight  ; 
The  woman  we  met  going  for  more  rum  ; 
Yonder  their  son  hacks  at  an  apple-tree 
For  firewood.     Winter  doles  no  blessing  here  ; 
The  Sabbath  is  a  bane  ;  all  thrift  enures 
In  folly  ;  the  essential  blood  secretes 
18 


206  PHILO: 

Blains,  fits,  and  purulence  of  heart  and  will. 
These  lips,  like  Libyan  sands,  are  ever  dry. 
This  carrion  attracts  calamities 
In  flocks.     Before  us,  God's  blest  image  lies 
A  malt-worm. 

Love.  Is  this  irremediable  ? 

PJiilo.     Some  hold  the  law  catholicon.     Alas  ! 
The  appetite  imquenched  would  dram  the  winds. 
Intoxication  sift  from  all  the  bolls 
Of  nature.     Culture,  ministries  of  good, 
A  varied  recreation,  milder  cups, 
Enfranchisement  of  all  the  faculties, 
A  temperate  conscience,  loyalty  to  God, 
Are  indispensable. 

The  road  again, 

And  mountain  freedom  of  the  air.      Our  way 
Through  walls  of  Parian  lustre  grandly  runs  ; 
We  cross  the  woods  that  nurse  their  sap  in  silence  ; 
Black  fences  rirn  the  alabaster  meadows. 
Harbored  in  a  dense  forest,  close  upon 
The   street,   the   red  school-house  you   see.      The 
boys 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  207 

Have  built  rude  palaces  of  snow,  the  girls 

Are  sliding  on  the  ice  ;  down  yonder  cliff, 

Some  wildly  leap  and  tumble  in  the  surf 

Of  this  their  transient  sea.    They  leave  their  sports, 

Still  sporting  to  their  books.     Let  us  go  in. 

This  does  not  match  with  Eton,  yet  are  these 

Our  princes  of  the  blood,  the  best  we  have. 

Annie.     Your  royalty  is  gristled  in  its  prime  ; 
Your  Dukes  have  hands  as  tough  as  walnut  bark, 
The  little  Duchesses  perambulate 
In  boots,  stout,  heavy,  as  a  fisherman's. 
Truly,  here's  fine  iconoclastic  stuff  — 

Philo.     Some  grains  of  which  will  not  be  out  of 

place. 

But,  soberly,  that  girl,  in  woollen  'tire 
And  frowzled  hair,  hath  a  poetic  mood, 
They  say. 

The  Schoolmaster.     What  mood  ?    Not  one  of 

Murray's  five 
Knows  she,  and  none  of  just  subordination. 

Annie.     Speak  to  these  children,  Love. 

Love.  Be  riot  too  strait, 


PHILU: 


Good  friend;  your  pupil's  confidence  command, 
His  will  is  yours  •  'tis  passion  frights  all  thought, 
While  gentleness  encharmeth  application. 
And,  children  dear,  be  orderly,  and  inind 
The  rules,  and  so  your  teachers  shall  mind  you. 
I  came  from  God,  —  do  not  be  startled,  —  Christ 
Came  from  the  same  ;  I  am  no  more  than  he, 
And  have  no  other  words.     In  Holy  Book, 
Upon  your  desks,  he  speaks  ;  will  you  hear  him  ? 
There,  children,  speaks  the    Good   to   make  you 

good; 

There  waits  the  feathered  heart  to  brood  on  you, 
As  tender  chickens  ;  full  of  tears  his  eyes, 
That  you  may  never  weep  ;  his  hands  are  torn 
With    thorns,    where    he    pursued   his   wandering 

lambs. 

The  wine  cup  utterly  refuse,  be  fixed 
Against  all  war,  combine  in  truest  love 
With  the  brown  boys  of  Tartary.     Grow  up 
Purely,  as  checkerberries  in  your  bogs, 
As  bright  and  beautiful  in  heart  and  life 
As  your  fir  thickets  in  a  dewy  morn. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  209 

Lift,  boys,  your  little  sisters  o'er  the  swales, 

And,  girls,  do  merrily  your  mothers'  wishes. 

'Tis  in  your  power  to  make  your  rural  homes 

As  seats  and  dwelling-places  of  the  Angels. 

But  yesterday  an  Evil  dire  I  saw, 

Whose  shadow  broad,  as  if  the  sun  were  lost 

In  irreversible  eclipse,  bestrides 

The  total  earth,  and  these  green-wood  abodes. 

Be  you  good,  so  this  Evil,  as  the  Avinds, 

Shall  pass,  and  you  be  saved  from  that  great  woe. 

Adieu,  dear  children  ;  love,  and  all  is  well. 

Annie.    Do  not  the  teachers,  Philo,  need  tuition  ? 

Philo.       Most    sure    they    do,    of    schools,    the 

Church,  and  all. 

Unction  they  want,  and  not  certificates. 
Baptize  the  mind,  and  love  on  genius  rain  ; 
Verily  the  Scholar  must  be  born  again. 
18* 


210  PHILO; 


SCENE  —  A  small  Burial  Lot,  enclosed,  and  set  with 
Trees ;   other  Graves  ;  a  River  near. 

Annie.     'Tis    Charles  ;  I  see   him  through  the 

trees  ;  he  stands 
Rueful,  by  the  sad  shrine  of  his  lost  one. 

Philo.     Shall  we  go  to  him  ? 

Annie.  Softly  loose  the  gate. 

A  soothing  silence  reigns  throughout  the  spot  ; 
The  elms  condole  with  every  mourner  here ; 
Murmurs  the  river  pensive  in  this  shade  ; 
These  monuments  look  forth  as  spirits  mild 
Congealed  with  sorrow  ;  our  Madonna  droops 
As  if  she  never  felt  a  woe  like  this. 

Philo.     The    first   bland   voice   of   Spring   has 

called  him  forth, 

Receding  snows  reveal  the  fatal  mound, 
The  grass  revives,  but  not  to  him  revive 
The  joys  of  parentage  ;  the  sparrows  sing ; 
That  sweeter  music,  which  a  child's  whole  life 
Evolves,  he  cannot  hear.     Our  Pastor  comes, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  211 

From    stroll    among    the    new-warmed    lairs    of 

buds. 
Annie.     Hast  not  a  word  for  Charles  ?     Of  all 

your  flock, 
Is  he  outcast  and  lost  ? 

The  Pastor.  He  knows  no  God, 

He    owns   not    Christ.      The   trees   are    gemmed, 

outflash 

The  maple  blows  j  his  sap,  refractory, 
No  vernal  heats  affect,  his  principle 
Of  life  is  doubt-bound,  fast  in  rigid  atheism. 

Annie.     I  see  a  gentle  sunbeam  on  his  head, 
And  lovely  Spring  is  warming  at  his  heart. 
O  sir,  he  has  some  feeling ;  how  it  lifts 
And  agitates  that  lump  of  dark  despair  ! 

The  Pastor.     It  is  an  ice-quake,  peradventure, 

not 

The  loose  and  mealy  fracture  of  the  soil. 
And  yet,  to  feel  is  crude,  atomic  life. 
He  loved  his  child,  and  gods  in  flesh  are  children. 
Philo.     We're  not  usurpers  of   the    hour,  dear 
Charles, 


212  PHILO: 

Or  place  ;  that  both  enforce  their  will  with  us. 

I  went  with  Annie  through  the  greening  gully, 

Riparian  transports  kept  us  on  our  feet ; 

Hither,  you  know,  we  could  not  fail  to  come  ; 

With  you,  we  feed  our  tears  on  this  charmed  dust, 

As  yours,  our  willowed  spirits  droop  with  grief, 

And  wave  funereal  above  your  dead. 

Charles.     Your   kindness,  Philo,   is  a   chcveril 

stroke 

Across  my  aching  head,  albeit  the  twinge 
Continues.     I  am  glad  to  clinch  your  hand, 
Because  you  clinch  me  back  again.     I  love 
This  spot,  where  yet  each  breeze  that  I  inhale 
Is  spined  with  sorrows  ;  every  mom  I  rouse 
My  woes  that  every  night  I  rock  to  sleep ; 
I  miss  my  child,  and  seek  where  she  is  not ; 
I  rake  her  ashes  her  blue  eye  to  find ; 
Her  dying  finished  me,  and  still  I  make 
Her  die  again  a  dozen  times  a  day. 
There's  Annie's  rose, — that  too  is  winter-killed. 
Annie.     Nay,  Charles,  look  you,  the  inner  bark  is 
green. 


AX     EVANGEL1AL).  213 

Philo.     A  voice    so    long   contemned,  so    long 

unheard, 
Our  Pastor's,  jars  it  on  your  present  mood  ? 

Charles.     I'll  not  say,  yes  ;  he   is  sincere,  there 
for 
I  like  the  devils. 

Philo.  Were  he  good  withal, 

With  double  warrant  he  might  claim  your  ear. 
He  is  a  father,  and  has  lost  a  child. 

Charles.     Let  me  observe  the    cadence    of  his 

tongue, 

I'll  sense  his  quality.     You,  Annie,  call 
Him  here.  —  She  is  an  angel,  only  one 
That  I  accredit.     Any  gift  from  her 
Were  sanctified,  e'en  in  canonicals. 

The  Pastor.     I   know  your  lack  of  faith,   and 

strength  of  love, 

Things  incompatible,  so  strangely  joined, 
As  if  a  dove  were  brided  to  an  auk. 
You,  Charles,  are  greater  maze  to  me,  than  death 
To  you.     Have  never  children  died  before  ? 
Shall  none  die  after  ?     Are  not  we  in  weeds  ? 


214  PHILO: 

Did  love  begin  and  end  with  that  rare  birth  ? 
Does  no  Divine  the  human  interfold  ? 
Blind-drives  the  Universe,  gruff,  hollow,  dark, 
And  recks  it  nought  for  your  deep  agony  ? 
Is  not  our  love  immortal  ?     Time  or  place, 
Or  all  divertisements,  could  they  induce 
Oblivion  of  the  rose-cheeked  innocence, 
That   crept    your   floors,  and    glec'd  your   garden 

through  ? 

And  what  is  this  but  Supersensualism  ? 
What  fascination  in  the  haggard  turf! 
What  transcendental  beauty  in  the  tomb  ! 
To  you,  who  rate  as  one  most  reprobate, 
An  unknown  river,  verdurous  and  calm, 
In  drear  and  troubled  coasting  of  the  soul 
Doth  open  ;  mounts  your  child,  and  wins  the  sire 
To  Heaven  ;  attempts  Eternity,  and  makes 
A  breach  where  you  may  enter.     Your  delight 
In  that  unpeered  progeny,  was  it 
A  ganglionic  fever  ?     Swells  your  grief 
But  to  collapse  ?     Yean  annual  ewes,  soft  bud 
The  gnarled  oaks  ?  —  has  travailing  love  no  due 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  215 

And  lineal  afterpart  ?     Were  Nature's  means 
Exhaust  ?     Could  she  no  longer  keep  your  child  ? 
Has  God  no  darlings  ?     O  ye  little-faithed  ; 
It  is  the  pleasure  of  the  All-Love,  you 
To  give  the  Kingdom.     Meekly  wait  for  him. 
Snatch  not  the  dawn,  keep  to  your  couch  until 
The  ruddy  bliss  feels  after  you,  and  fillips 
Your  slumbering  lids.     In  quietness  revolve  ; 
Solstitial  hours  draw  nigh,  thy  Norrland  wilds 
With  crocus-breathing  gales  shall  gladdened  be. 
The  Church  door  's  wide,  go  in  ;  disconsolate 
Are  Holy  Mother's  care.     And  others,  Charles, 
Will  weep  with  you,  and  teach  you  how  to  praise  ; 
Pure  sympathies  before  the  Power  Supreme 
Shall  blend,  a  white-armed  sisterhood,  and  move 
In  choral  volt  to  piety's  sweet  stops. 

This  end-all.  Philo,  hath  a  self-relief. 
Bereavement  hallows  many  a  barren  wold, 
God's  acre  's  held  in  universal  fee  ; 
Through  death  to  life  is  a  perpetual  round. 
The  worm's  papescent,  Hades  is  a  garden, 
Silence  matures  in  amaranthine  bulbs, 


216  PHILO: 

Our  stagnant  blood,  in  honeysuckles,  steams 

Nectarean,  through  the  humid  evening  air  ; 

Genius  doth  lessons  take  of  stark  decay, 

And  executes  in  these  unfading  glyphs. 

And  I  have  walked  with  death  as  with  a  brother. 

Communion  taken  such  as  life  affords 

Not  every  day.     Dust  elevates  above 

My  dust  ;  and  pearl-browed  Peace  'mid  sable  scenes 

Comes  forth,  as  on  a  battle  field  the  Moon. 

Doth  Heaven's  orbit  graze  the  grave  ?     How  else, 

Standing  on  this  low  tump,  bathe  1  my  head 

In  joys  unseen,  how  else  does  this  heart  beat 

With  tumult  of  contiguous  seraphim  ? 

What  sore  distress  this  spot  comprises,  Charles, 
I  know  full  well.     There  lies  our  child,  our  pet, 
Her  dimpled  fingers,  and  her  dear  caress, 
A  prattling  bellibon,  our  hearth's  best  warmth  ; 
And  there  the  choicest,  purest  of  my  herd  ; 
Beyond,  a  cultured  soul,  rare-gifted  thought, 
And  closest  fellow  of  my  mind ;  the  next 
Was  sage  and  ancient  counsellor.     I  am 
Not  old,  but  I  have  buried  more,  most  dear 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  217 

To  me,  than  some  whose  age  is  mewed  in  wrinkles. 
If  friendship  be  perpetual  youth,  the  Pastor 
Soon  sinks  in  years,  and  grows  untimely  bald. 
Affliction  thins  his  sides,  fate  gives  a  staff 
Whereon  his  young  decrepitude  must  lean. 
Adieu,  constrict,  hope-lorn ;  Christ  weeps  with  you  ; 
Those  tears  purl  through  your  sorrows  and  create 
A  vale  of  beauty  in  that  bleak  domain  ! 

Charles.     He   did   not   tax   my  frowardness,  or 

plant 

A  feather  in  the  way  of  freest  thought. 
I'll  go  and  hear  him  preach  next  Sunday,  see 
Where  leads  this  new  ignescent  intimation. 

Philo.     Singing   their  key-note  close  to  them, 

stout  cups 
• 
Of  glass,  we  break.      Your  heart's  key  singeth  he ; 

Would  God  that  heart  might  break,  and  truth  come 

in, 

With  joy  and  peace  ;  eternal  life  begin  ! 
19 


218  PHILO: 

SCENE  —  At  P kilo's. 
Gabriel  and  P/tllo. 

Gabriel.     The  Day  approaches,  yonder  steeple- 
top 

Is  gilt  with  rosy  dawn.     My  work  is  closed  ; 
Preliminous  on  these  events,  I  staid, 
Still  urging  consummation  of  the  hour. 
The  Angel  of  the  Trump  hath  sounded,  wide 
The  volleyed  peal  hath  startling  clanged;  the  press, 
And  pulpit,  and  the  lecture-room,  repeat 
The  word  in  kindling  pulses  through  the  land. 
Poets  have  sung,  historians  moralized, 
Conventions  sat  in  judgment  on  the  race. 
The  graves  are  opened,  and  the  dead  come  forth  ; 
The  silent  catacomb  of  prescript  wrong 
Is  rent  ;  from  dust  of  forms  and  empty  rites 
They  rise  to  life  ;  lust,  an  unfathomed  sea, 
Gives  up  its  dead.     His  vial  on  the  earth, 
God's  undiminished  wrath,  an  Angel  poured  ; 
Confederate  fraud  and  pampered  cruelty 


AN    EVANGELIAD:  219 

He  smote  ;  on  hurtful  governance  and  laws 
There  fell  a  grievous  sore,  and  plague  of  hail. 
Fabrics  of  sin  are  scorched  with  sevenfold  heat  ; 
Spirits  unclean  still  work  foul  miracle. 
But  brief  their  course  ;  the  two  and  forty  months 
Of  rampant  Blasphemy  are  almost  run. 
The  obstacles  of  custom,  prejudice, 
Mountains  and  islands,  flee  away  ;  your  Cause 
Its  free  wave  rolls  as  an  eternity. 
Daughter  of  God,  and  mother  of  pure  souls, 
Conscience,  —  the  Woman,  driven  out,  pursued 
By  floods  of  bestial  malice,  — reappears. 

Philo.     What  noise  hear  I  ? 

Gabriel.  Applause  that  welcomes  her. 

The  stars  of  titled  might  and  bloody  fame 
Are  falling  ;  lo  !  their  odious  splendor  quenched. 
Listen  !  in  the  tops  of  the  mulberries 
You  hear  the  sound  of  going  ;   'tis  the  Church, 
That  travaileth  as  cleaving  mountains  sore  ; 
'Tis  Virtue's  hosts  that  march  through  Achor's  valley. 
Furbish  the  spear,  put  on  the  brigandine. 
And  strike  for  Armageddon,  where  resides 


220  P  H  i  L  o : 

The  King,  Expediency,  and  a  hard  fight 
Is  threatened.     See!  they  search  Jerusalem 
With  candles  ;  lights  flit  to  and  fro  in  halls 
Of  office,  cabinets,  and  the  exchange. 

Philo.     What  rocks  our  base  ? 

Gabriel.  The  adamantine  bands 

Of  manifold  oppression,  girthing  states, 
And  weighing  on  the  people,  burst ;  and  burst 
The  chains  of  slavery  ;  and  prison-walls 
Of  all  injustice  part,  as  part  the  spheres. 
The  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  shake,  and  men 
Shall  know  that  God  is  sovereign  of  the  world. 
Behold  the  beams  Christ's  Corning  flings  before, 
Dwellers  in  darkness  crowd  the  Eastern  shore  ! 

The  Advent. 

Philo.     The  bell  has  tolled,  the  starting  signal  's 

given  ; 

A  band  of  music  plays  our  solemn  flight. 
The  white;  scarf  streaming  from  thy  raven  hair, 
And  buttoned  with  a  rose-bud,  well  becomes 


AN    EVANGEL1AD.  221 

The  Day,  and  thee,  dear  Annie.     Glorious  Day  ! 
No  morn  so  bright  ;  the  clouds  are  Beauty's  gift 
Withal,  impearling  the  cerulean. 
And  for  this  fete  of  ages,  all  in  white 
Are  dressed.      The  cattle  graze  rorifluent  meads  ; 
The  lumber-men  have  doifed  their  suits  of  red  ; 
The  river,  unopposed  by  pothering  keels, 
Flows  Sabbath-wise  ;  the  foam,  in  fleets,  glides  soft. 
Our  town's  folk  rise,  from  all  their  gates  they  rise, 
And  take  the  air  ;  vehicular  winds  transport 
These  Western  watchers  whither  the  New  Star 
Directs  ;  above  our  house  they  buoy,  and  pass 
The  hills,  as  feathered  squadrons  from  the  pole. 
Dreadless  mount  we  the  Glory-destined  car. 
Where  He  beheld  the  kingdoms  of -the  earth, 
Upon  that  Mountain  high,  'tis  fixed  for  him 
To  be  revealed ;  all  kindreds,  tribes,  and  tongues, 
Confluent  thither,  gather  unto  him. 

Annie.     This  zephyred  transit,  winged  voyaging, 
Quiring  like  orbs  through  the  ethereal  fields, 
Unspeakably  delights  me  ;  and  with  thee, 
Dear  Philo,  in  whose  soul  all  goodness  lies 
19* 


222  PHILO: 

Aerial,  where  I,  for  many  a  month 
A  leaden  sinner,  nursed  my  pinions  small. 
And  taught  my  purer  essence  how  to  soar. 
Sweet  smell  the  pastures,  sweet  the  groves  of  pine. 
The  Earth  hath  washed  in  musk  and  lavender 
To  greet  the  Day.     Behind  us,  Faith  and  Love 
And  Hope,  three  swans,  are  swimming.    Groups  ap 
pear 

With  sprigs  of  christmas-rose,  and  some  with  palms. 
Blue -ribboned  girls  sing  on  their  flying  march. 
Abreast  by  twos,  the  Clergy  go,  their  albs 
And  bands  were  ne'er  so  white  before.     Who  those 

With  open  collars,  and  a  hunter's  frock  ? 
Pkilo.     They  are  Reformers. 
Annie.  In  the  midst  of  them 

t  see  the  Wandering  Jew  ;  and  on  my  troth, 

There's  Charles,  the  Ishmaelite  ;  does  he  believe  ? 

The  Poets  pass ;    I  know  them  by  their  curls  ; 

Their  hair  streams  orphical,  as  they  dash  on, 

Like  merry  skaters,  through  the  glary  void. 

Philo.     Lo  !  on  a  sea  of  glass,  'mid  fire-like  rays, 

As  if  the  falling  stars  still  quenchless  burned, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  223 

The  victor  sons  of  Virtue,  harping,  go, 

And  sing  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb. 

High  up  the  lucid  coast,  an  Angel  stands, 

With   rainbows   crowned,   and  feet    of    glistering 

flame, 

Who  swears  the  time  is  over,  and  the  end 
Of  hidden  mystery  of  God  is  nigh. 
Forth  gallops  one  on  a  pale  horse  ;   'tis  Death 
Of  death,  a  valiant  champion  of  life  ; 
Quarter  of  earth  he  subjugates  to  Christ ; 
His  fervor  kindles,  gleams  his  golden  shield. 

Annie.     Yonder  horizon  darkens  on  my  sight ! 
A  caravan  of  shadows  traverses 
The  plain.     What  is  its  omen  ?     Had  I  wist  ! 
Does  disappointment  mix  with  all  we  do, 
And  with  this  Day,  like  salt  in  the  salt  sea  ? 
As  from  a  pit  they  rise,  as  Styx  had  swarmed, 
And  colonized  its  horrors  ;  leopards  winged, 
Girl-headed  locusts,  folk  satyric  born, 
Lathy  and  crank.     A  woman  leads  the  rout 
Sitting  a  scarlet  horse  ;  while  dragons  trail 
Behind,  and  howling  time  the  sullen  march. 


PHILO: 


Pkilo.     War,  Slavery,  Intemperance,  are  those, 
The  Evils,  Bigotry,  Monopoly, 
Oppression,  others  that  infest  the  world. 
That  Woman,  chief,  is  War  ;  no  woman  she, 
A  thing  of  terrors,  fetor,  madness,  wrapped 
In  mantle  of  a  witch.     I  met  her  once 
Before.     Let  no  uncertain  thought  arise. 
They  are  disabled,  and  reserved  in  chains 
For  Judgment  great  and  terrible  of  God. 
On,  on,  the  people  billow  ;  their  white  vests, 
Like  a  slant  snow-storm,  fleck  the  amber  vast. 
A  thousand  leagues  an  hour  we  make  ;  and  now 
We  verge  the  spot  appointed  ;  now  the  lines, 
From    East    and    West    and   North   and    South, 

unite, 

In  eddying  cadence,  close  the  Mount  around. 
On  grassy  seats,  prepared  by  Gabriel, 
Aslope,  the  shining  ranks  arise  ;  a  host 
No  man  can  number.     Lo,  He  comes  !  our  Lord 
And   Christ  ;    he   comes   to  judge  the  world  ;    or, 

more, 
To  let  his  truth  exert  judicial  force, 


AN    EVANGEL1AU. 

Dividing  soul  and  spirit,  joint  and  marrow. 

The  halo  crowns  his  uncrowned  head ;  a  Name 

Is  written  on  his  vesture  and  his  thigh  : 

THE    LORD    OF    LORDS    AND  KING  or   KINGS.     A 

light 

That  pales  the  solar  fires,  his  face  emits  ; 
The  ready  faces  of  his  followers 
Repeat  the  radiance,  blush  an  equal  flame, 
That  threads  with  lightning  touches  the  concave. 
The  Sisters  three,  in  nebulous  mutation, 
A  cloud-glory,  impendulous,  adorn 
This  pageant,  and  his  Coming  dignify  : 
Anon  to  merge  in  the  Eternal  Beauty. 

Annie.     Who  those  that  at  his  feet  lie  low,  and 

seem 
In  tears  to  smile,  and  smiling  still  to  weep  ? 

Philo.     They're  Poverty  and  Ignorance,  and  all 
The  catalogue  of  Innocent  Distress  ; 
Thousands  of  thousands,  won  from  dens  and  caves, 
Mountains  and  deserts  of  their  varied  woe. 

Annie.     To  his  left  hand  the  imps  of  darkness 
turn  : 


226  PHILO: 

They  maunder,  gloam,  and  cower  intimidate 
Together,  cower  before  his  blasting  eye. 

Philo.     As  on  a  balcony,  preeminent, 
Distinct  with  rarest  splendor,  carved  or  wreathed, 
By  art  of  him,  van-courier  of  the  Day, 
Justice  and  Mercy  sit ;  sweet  Mercy,  fair 
And  young  forever  ;  Justice,  dread,  severe, 
Hath  shed  her  terrors,  glows  as  fair,  as  young, 
And  holds  a  bunch  of  gladsome  heliotrope. 
From  empyreal  distance  mist-like  come 
The  harp-bearing  Seraphic  choir,  and  loose 
Their  light-weft  cinctures  to  the  beamy  winds. 
He  speaks  ;  the  hushed  collective  ear  attends. 

Christ.     Empires,  men,  brothers  !  my  design  ye 

feel, 

And  instincts  of  the  highest  hour  obey. 
Occasions  infinite,  immediate, 
Within  you  work,  God's  moment  touches  you. 
Celestial  salutations  welcome  you  ; 
My  heart  doth  welcome  sons  and  daughters  here  ; 
Enter  into  the  pleasure  of  your  Lord. 
But  listen  to  the  rendering  of  time, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  227 

And  what  report,  to  mine  afflicted  ears 

Your  Consciences  have  immemorial  borne. 

For  ages  hath  this  blessed  light  at  gates 

Of  morning  knocked,  and  with  its  dew-bent  locks 

Waited  in  silent  suburbs  of  the  world  : 

Admission  ye  refused,  the  sin-obscure 

Preferring,  and  licentiousness  of  night. 

The  Prophecies,  of  old  communicate, 

My  hope  and  promise,  often  uttered  when 

I  sojourned  in  the  flesh,  still  unexpressed 

By  you,  sole  medium  of  heavenly  grace, 

Have  been  as  things  that  were  not ;  often  glossed, 

But  never  lived,  or  in  your  lives  fulfilled. 

I  would  have  come  in  mine  own  church,  revealed 

My  glory  in  the  fire  of  pulpit  truth, 

And  virtuous  action  :  how  that  fire  ye  dulled ! 

I  should  have  dwelt  in  you,  and  ye  in  me  ; 

From  your  eyes,  I  have  all  too  faintly  shone  ; 

Your  heart  with  my  celestial  purposes 

Hath    rarely    moved,    and    when    I   would    have 

walked 
To  visit  prisoners  and  liberate 


228  PHILO: 

The  captive,  heal  the  sick,  your  foot  disdained 
Its    office.      Ye    vouched    me    your    Guide   and 

Head 

With  sacrament  and  populous  attest : 
But  when  I  bade  you  bless  your  enemies, 
Ye  cursed  and  killed.     I  bade  you  live  in  peace, — 
The  clash  of  arms,  and  tumult  of  affray 
Have  swept  incessant  discord  round  the  earth. 
You  named  me  Wisdom,  him  a  fool  who  kept 
My  words ;  Atonement,  and  with  God  and  man 
Fomented  wasting,  everlasting  jars. 
My  simple  laws  and  genial  sway  ye  flung 
Aside  for  corporate  brutalities, 
And  false,  despotic  state  of  selfishness. 
Erewhile,  the  brightness  of  my  Coming  had 
Consumed  iniquity  ;  that  mighty  force, 
Not  mine,  but  God's,  in  you  distort,  corrupt. 
Hath  given  itself  to  the  support  of  sin, 
Enforcing  the  supremacy  of  wrong. 
On  my  Jeft  hand,  what  Monsters  ye  have  reared, 
What  fed  on  dainty  croppings  of  your  guile. 
What  from  your  loins  have  ignominious  sprung. 


AN     EVANGELIAD.  229 

And  what,  in  basest  aspect,  ye  yourselves 

Have  been,  behold !     God  lays  no  measures  hard, 

Or  hard  to  be  discerned.     He  loveth  you  ; 

Ye  were  dear  sons  and  pleasant  children  all, 

And   he    would   dwell    with   you,    walk    in    your 

midst. 

And  me,  his  Son,  your  Way,  and  Truth,  and  Life, 
He  gave  ;  nor  lacked  there  ought  for  your  perfec 
tion. 

I  came  to  save,  and  still  to  save  am  come. 
I  will  not  heap  reproach,  nor  need  I  add 
To  what  your  quickened  apprehensions  feel. 
Is  this  your  sin  well  charged  ? 

The  People.  The  awful  guilt, 

O  Lord,  we  own. 

Christ.  Shall't  be  destroyed  ? 

The  People.  Amen, 

So  let  it  be  ;  the  execution  haste. 

Christ.     Almighty  Love,  bright  effluence  of  God, 
Essence  of  mortal  or  immortal  hope, 
Thou  purging  rapture  and  detergent  joy, 
Hidden  too  long,  but  not  too  late  made  known, 
20 


230  PIIILO: 

Now  glorified  with  glory  of  the  Son, 
Shine  forth !  with  thy  transcendent  vigor  shine. 
The  Phantasms    of  the   Evils.     Hide    us,    ye 

rocks ;  on  us,  ye  mountains,  fall ! 
The  day  of  wrath  is  come  ;  and  who  can  stand  ? 
Flee  we  from  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne. 
Chant  of  the  Seraphic  Choir.     Rejoice,  ye  na 
tions,  and  his  people  all ! 
He  renders  vengeance  on  his  adversaries. 

The  Kings  of  the  Earth.     O  Lord,  confession 

cannot  magnify 

What  yet  thy  grace  exceeds  —  our  sinfulness. 
Imperially  disgraced  by  us  tliou  wilt 
Kxtol  ;  we  cast  our  crowns  before  thce  :  be 
The    throne    and    sceptre    thine.       Our    govern 
ments, 

Long  traitorous  to  thy  supremer  reign, 
Return  to  thee.     Our  subjects,  wronged,  in  wrong 
Ensampled,  cheered  to  hate,  from  love  withheld, 
To  knowledge  shut  and  hope,  by  levyings 
Forespent,  be  thine  to  rule  ;  thy  subjects  we. 
Our  nations  join  to  virtue's  wide  domain. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  231 

Chant  of  the  Seraphs.     To  Him,  their  Prince, 

the  kings  of  the  earth  bring 
Their  glory,  and  in  his  light  the  nations  walk. 
The  Politicians.     Thrice   terrible   in  thy   great 

beauty,  Lord  ! 

Can  mercy  measure  such  a  guilt  as  ours  ? 
Thy  brightness  shows  how  vile  we  be,  alas ! 
So  vile,  what  floods  can  cleanse  ?     No   height  so 

great, 

No  deep  so  low,  of  infamy,  but  we 
Have  traversed  it  ;  thy  chosen  scoffed,  pursued 
Thy  saints,  perplexing  the  Redemptive  plan ; 
Have  interlined  the  sacred  page  with  lies, 
With   lies  have   filled  thy  prophets'   mouths,   the 

right 

Postponed  to  pretexts  of  the  passing  hour, 
Bargained  away  the  hope  of  every  age. 
Our  collow  souls,  who  sees  but  to  despise  ? 
And  thou  'fore  all.     What  penance  wilt  impose  ? 
To  kneel  on  rocks,  or  fasts  or  vigils  keep  ? 
Can  hard  contrition  wear  away  these  frauds, 
Hypocrisies,  and  pensioned  villanies  ? 


232  I'lilLO: 

Have  mercy  on  us,  Son  of  God !  and  as 
Thy  Coming  brightens,  let  our  spirits  clear. 

The    Transcend  ejitalists.     In    homage,    due    to 

goodness,  Lord,  we  bend 
To  thee,  who  Goodness  art.     O  Wonderful 
Of  the  create,  O  Miracle  of  time  ! 
Thou  curdled  breath  of  rare  divinity, 
Thou  soul  of  Virtue,  globed  in  human  eyes, 
Eternal  Word  011  ruddy  lips  incarne  ! 
Too  oft  on  self  we  gazed,  and  less  on  thee  : 
To-day  the  mirror  's  broken  ;  let  it  lie, 
Since  God  through  thee  and  us  is  shining  fair. 
We  would  no  friend  or  brother  ;  after  us 
Thy  mother  eyes  went  streaming  ;  flowers  the  dew. 
Harts  drink  the  water-brooks,  and  we  ourselves, 
More  sweet  to  us  than  Jewish  muscadine. 
Our  fount  ran  dry,  alas  !  good  Lord  ;  and  now 
We  bring  our  empty  bowls  to  thee.     We  shone, 
But  inward,  oven-suns,  none  blessed  our  light ; 
Lord,  bless  us  ;  we  will  bless,  unsought,  unspent. 

Bishops    and   Clergymen.     Repentance,    Lord, 
we've  urged,  how  little  felt ! 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  233 

Submission,  arrant  rebels  to  thy  word  ; 

Thy  sovereignty  professing,  still  controlled 

By  passions  of  the  populace  ;  and  awed 

By  human  statutes  while  we  played  with  God's. 

With  forms  the  spirit  ridden,  simple  truth 

Entoiled  with  web  of  curious  subtilties. 

Thy  people  lay  as  wax  beneath  our  hands ; 

Failing  thy  lustrous  image  to  impress, 

The  lines  of  sect,  and  our  usurped  estate, 

We  drew  thereon.     But  why  augment  our  shame  ? 

Thou  knowest,  Lord,  the  direful  summary. 

Baptize  us  with  thy  fire,  our  spirits  purge 

With  thine  own  holy  spirit.     Man-ordained, 

Renew  our  ordination  ;  take  our  robes, 

And  clothe  us  with  thy  righteousness.     When  thou 

Art  gone,  in  us  thy  living  face  be  seen ; 

To  bliss  supernal  welcome  us  at  last. 

The  Pope  of  Rome.     Thy   function,  Lord,  and 

virtual  sanctity, 

We've  held,  imposturous  ;  betwixt  thy  Church 
And  thee,  a  carnal  governance  have  thrust  j 
The  mitre  overshades  the  Cross,  our  will 
20* 


234  J'HILO: 

Thy  will  defaults.     The  key  of  knowledge  we 
Restore  to  thee.      Shine  on  thy  church,  through  us 
Outshine.     Be  Head  entire,  and  we  the  feet. 

Cliant  of  Seraphs.     The  priests  do  gird  them 
selves,  lament,  and  weep  ; 
The  altar-ministers  in  sackcloth  lie  ; 
The  Pastors  fold  again  the  scattered  sheep. 

A  Multitude  of  Men  and  Women.     In  us  be  glo 
rified,  O  Lord,  from  us 

In  living  waters  flow.     Thy  love  and  works, 
And  life  and  death,  by  us  be  manifest. 

Christ.     Depart  from  me  accurst,  adulteries, 
Unnatural  affections,  heresies, 
Wrath,  murder,  unbelief,  idolatries, 
Abominations,  whatsoe'er  defiles 
Or  makes  a  lie,  in  unquenched  fires  consume. 

Chant  of  Seraphs.    Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
On  earth  peace  and  good  will  to  man ! 

Angel  of  Prophecy.     This  is  the    First    Resur 
rection. 

Chorus  of  People.  Resurrection's  morn  has  come, 
Souls  emerge  from  night  profound, 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  235 

Ages  burst  their  silent  tomb, 
Years  of  God  begin  their  round. 

Prophecy  fulfils  its  moons, 

Earth  in  Christ  transfigured  lies, 

Nature  all  her  winds  attunes, 
Human  modes  accordant  rise. 

Heroes  come  from  battles  won, 
Shades  of  martyrs  o'er  us  bend, 

Zion  gleameth  as  the  sun, 

Empires  Virtue's  heights  ascend. 

Crowd  the  chorus,  swell  the  lay, 

Lift  the  shout  of  Jubilee, 
Hail,  exultant,  hail  the  Day ! 

Shake  the  hills  with  ecstasy  ! 

Philo.     From   God's   throne  and  the  Lamb's,  a 

river  runs, 

As  crystal  clear  ;  the  silver  cataract 
Down  steeps  of  azure  falls  j  encompassing 


236  P  H  I  L  O  : 

The  vision,  far  the  level  gleam  extends. 
Bosquets  of  Health-Trees  picture  its  bright  lane. 
The  Twilight  and  the  Dawn  descend  and  bathe 
Their  ancient  sheen  in  the  rare-tinted  depths. 
Christ.     My  grace  be  with  you  all,  and  love  of 

God, 
Communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  amen. 

Pliilo.     The  Day    is    finished,    and    thereafter- 

ward 

Comes  no  night.     Virtue  reigns  eternal  noon. 
Gabriel  ascends  to  other  spheres.     As  stream 
Into  a  stream,  as  flame  in  flame  is  merged, 
Christ  Hows  into  humanity,  and  lights 
The  body  of  the  world  ;  all  eyes  look  him, 
All  lips  declare  ;  the  lineaments  divine, 
As  stars  incarcerate  in  emeralds, 
Hay  from  the  whole  environment  of  man. 
Annie,  where  are  our  friends  ? 

Annie.  On  yonder  cliff, 

The  Poet  with  the  Poets  sits,  their  souls 
As  with  some  ocean-glory,  swelling,  gleaming. 
Beside  him,  Wynfreda,  her  glowing  hand 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  237 

In  his,  a  lily  on  the  same  wave  rocked  ; 

She  droops  toward  him,  and  from  her  eyes  I  see 

The  glory-flood  responsive  tears  distilling. 

Peruses  Charles  the  sacred  Mount,  where  His 

Receding  lustre  like  a  foot-print  stays. 

Through  polyglottal  throngs,  'mid  shout  and  song 

And  dance,  go  Edward,  Julia,  Henry,  Sarah, 

Meandering,  as  through  belligerent  states 

A  river,  giving  beauty  unto  all, 

Beauty  imbibing.     Choirs  of  clergymen 

Of  every  order,  with  our  Pastor  sins 

o 

Te  Deum ! 

Philo.         List  !     The  Wandering  Jew  to  us 
Is  beckoning  ;  points  he  to  a  cloud  of  smoke 
Careering  from  beyond  that  hill.      We  will 
Go  with  him. 

The  Wandering  Jew.     Tophet  burns,  and  in  it 

burn 
The  Evils. 

Philo.         Holiest  incendiarism ! 

The  Wandering  Jew.     A  hand  unseen  is  busy 

here,  and  breath 


238  PHILO: 

Of  God  doth  tind  the  place.     In  sulphur  flames, 
War  crisps  and  shudders  like  a  burning  feather. 
Intemperance  with  all  her  crew  is  drowned 
And  dissipated  in  that  lake  of  fire. 
Fast  to  a  stake  with  her  own  manacles, 
The  fagots  blaze  about  the  Dragoriess, 
Fell  Slavery  ;  a  hissing  tempest  beats 
Oppression  down  ;  the  carcasses  of  Lust 
And  Avarice  are  broiling  ;   Slander  gnaws 
Her  tongue  ;  Deceits  like  adders  wimble  through 
The  singeing  vapors,  and  expire ;  Force  falls 
And  Hate  in  the  conflagrant  vengeance.  —  Lo  ! 
The  fires  go  out  ;  the  Sun,  all  genially, 
Shines  on  the  ruin.     You  behold  what  look 
Like  substances,  a  damned  group  of  things  ; 
Dead  ashes  all,  dead,  dead,  and  the  first  gust 
Will  scatter  them.     And  now,  good  friends,  rejoice 
With  me,  —  I  am  a  man,  and  have  a  soul  • 
I  felt  it  thrilling  up  my  flesh  when  He 
Was  on  the  Mountain,  that  old  soul  of  my 
Long-sundered  youth.      This  rare  decomposition 
Shall  work  productive  affluence.     This  spot 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  239 

I'll  occupy ;  'twill  please  you  still  to  think 
That  Tophet  is  a  farm,  and  he,  yclept 
The  Devil,  farmer  too.     The  best  of  hay 
These  horrors  will  afford.     In  cherry-time, 
Hither  your  children  bring,  and  they  shall  find 
The  vilest  ills  may  yield  the  choicest  fruit. 

Philo.     God!  who  from  darkness  brought  this 

world  to  light, 

From  darkness  still  to  light  dost  bring  us  on ; 
With  our  own  wickedness  correctest  us, 
With  our  backslidings  dost  reprove  !     Our  sins 
Into  the  depths  are  thrown,  the  wilderness 
Breaks  forth  in  waters,  parched  ground  in  pools. 
In  dwelling-place  of  dragons  springs  the  grass. 
Annie,     Here,  Edward,  flashing  gladness,  hastes 

to  us. 

Edward.     The  wonder,  Philo,  has  but  just  com 
menced. 

The  world  entire  is  a  great  hive  of  blest 
Commotion.     Scattered  to  their  homes  and  posts, 
The  people  all  are  working  out  the  sign 
And  import  of  the  Day.     Come  you  and  see. 


240  PHILO: 

Annie.      Ringing    of   steel    I   hear,  and   echo- 
crash, 

As  million  sledges  smote  a  million  anvils. 

Philo.     Yon  closely  paraphrase  the  fact.     Their 
swords 

To    ploughshares,    spears  to   priming-hooks,  they 
beat ; 

Nor  ever  blacksmiths  gave  such  lusty  blows. 

They  rend  the  forts  and  whoop  down  citadels. 

The  slaves  are  frolicking  ;  to-morrow  they 

With  freeman's  will  a  freeman's  work  will  do. 

The  alcoholic  fire  in  fire  goes  out  ; 

A  mob  of  Adventers  the  gallows  touzc  ; 

See  bands  of  exiles  singing  to  their  homes ; 

Scrimp  jails  to  airy  hospitals  arise  ; 

Cities  exude  their  poisons,  as  a  fog  ; 

The  mephitism  is  banished  by  the  winds. 

The  Cumberland  road,  with  many  wagon  loads 

Of  reparations  for  the  Indians, 

A  mirthful  rah  hie  crowd.      There  is  a  town 

In  Phalansteric  change;   the  houses  move, 

As  trees  of  old,  to  sweet  synergic  pipes. 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  241 

See  gardens  multiply,  and  bulbs  increase, 

See  tasteful  cottages  adorn  the  plains. 

Our  senators  eventful  progress  feel, 

And  meet  to  Christianize  the  constitution. 

The  epoch  deepens,  wide  our  God  hath  rule  ; 

Beyond  the  seas  prophetic  crises  thrill. 

Love  balances  their  power,  and  soothes  their  fears  ; 

Their  ships  of  war  convoy  Millenial  rapture 

Around  the  earth  ;  the  serf  to  burgher  mounts  ; 

The  lazzaroni  weave  in  factories  ; 

The  Moslem  is  agape,  and  opes  his  mosque 

To  Gospel  preachers.     The  glad  news  spins  on 

To  Ispahan,  and  shakes  the  Chinese  wall. 

Enough  for  one  day  ;  let  us  homeward  wend, 

And  in  our  hearts  the  solemn  lessons  tend. 

SCENE  —  A  Bower  in  Annie's  Garden. 
Pli.ilo  and  Annie. 

Philo.      Early  among  your  flowers. 
Annie.  So  are  the  birds. 

We  were  so  fledged  with  glory  on  That  Day, 
21 


242  PHILO: 

So  Morn-informed,  the  birds  expect  a  mate 

In  us.     I've  brought  you  out  a  rose  that  bloomed 

While  we  were  absent,  a  Prince  Albert  that 

I  waited  for  ;  as  fragrant  as  our  bliss, 

And  beautiful  as  Jesus'  flowering. 

Philo.     Your  rose  denays  the  ancient  god,  and 

gives 

Us  speech,  so  keeps  up  with  the  time  ;  and  love, 
In  roses  eons  dwelling,  finds  a  tongue 
At  this  late  hour. 

Annie.  Make  me  an  olden  rose  ; 

I  will  keep  silence  while  you  speak. 


That  Coming,  that  Recension,  whatever 

It  be  ;  —  grant  it  a  vision  that  we  both 

Did  see,  call  it  a  dream  we  both  have  dreamed  ;  — 

There  is  a  Spirit-death,  and  Spirit-life  ; 

And  this  is  the  First  Resurrection  ;  such, 

Meseems,  is  the  decisive  Gospel  sense. 

Christ  comes  in  us,  and  quickly  comes,  if  quick 

Received,  for  centuries  has  yearned  to  come. 

He  died  to  sin,  that  we  might  die,  and  live 


AN    EVANGELIAD.  243 

Again.     With  him  we  buried  lie,  with  him 
To  rise.     Is  he  a  Judge  ?  e'en  so  are  we. 
Smote  He  the  world  with  the  rod  of  his  mouth  ? 
That  mouth  are  all  who  his  plain  truth  express. 

Annie.  What  is  the  Second  Resurrection,  or 
The  Second  Death  ?  Hereafter,  what  the  doom 
Of  wickedness  and  unrepenting  men  ? 

Philo.     If  it  so  be  that  goodness  hath  no  charm, 
The  will  is  kerned  in  impenitence. 
That  vice  with  irrecursive,  Pontian  flood 
Sets  in,  and  guile  and  hate  shall  organize 
The  nature  ;  if  so  be  that  sin  is  soul, 
And  soul  is  sin,  without  a  flaw  between, 
Or  seam  impierceable  by  sword  of  truth, 
Then  are  not  both  to  the  same  pit  consigned  ? 

These  speculations  by  the  by.  —  The  News, 
The  Glory-day,  the  Evangeliad 
Of  ages,  occupies  the  mind.     Christ  saves. 
The  earth  brims  with  a  pure  enthusiasm. 
Hilarious  all  and  holy.     Heart  to  heart 
Its  signals  hoists,  eyes  dawn  on  eyes,  the  streets 
Redemptive  look,  the  folk  Redeemed.     Watch  we 


244  PHILO:    AN    EVANGELIAD. 

And  pray,  and  daily  trim  our  mortal  lamps. 
Regeneration  is  the  work  of  life  ; 
The  blade,  the  ear,  the  full  corn  in  the  ear, 
Is  still  the  law.     The  trellis  deftly  set, 
What  hinders  Earth  from  climbing  to  its  God  ; 
Whilst  down  the  arbored  void  the  purple  fruit 
In  the  long  summer  centuries  shall  hang, 
And  children  on  the  mountain  tops  will  pluck 
The  Good  and  True,  as  I  this  bunch  of  grapes. 

The  minor  tale  a  marriage  often  rounds, 
And  on  the  greater  a  new  lustre  sheds  ; 
Nor  are  Divine  events  too  great  for  that 
Wherein  Heaven  is  foreshadowed  —  nay,  doth  orb 
Itself  about  us,  and  within  us  spring. 
Annie,  let  this  glad  week  our  gladness  crown, 
Be  Bridal  of  the  Church  and  Christ  our  own. 


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with  the  Inaugural,  First  Annual,  and  Farewell  Addresses  of  Wash 
ington.  Four  Portraits,  12mo,  Muslin,  $1,00. 


PICTORIAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 

BY    HUME    AND    SMOLLETT. 

Abridged  and  continued  to  the  accession  of  VICTORIA 

BY    JOHN    ROBINSON,    D.    D. 

Engravings,  12rno.,  Muslin,  $1,00. 


The  Life  of  our  Blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ; 

To  which  is  added,  the  Lives  and  Sufferings  of  his   Holy  Evangelists 
Apostles,  and  other  primitive  Martyrs. 

BY    THE    REV.    JOHN    FLEETWOOD,    D.  D. 
Numerous  Engravings,  I'Jnio,  Muslin,  $1,00. 


PILGRIM'S   PROGRESS, 

FROM  THIS  WOULD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME. 

BY    JOHN    BUNYAN. 

With  Notes,  and  a  Life  of  the  Author, 

BY    THE    REY.    THOMAS    SCOTT, 

Late  Chaplain  to  the  Lock  Hospital. 

Illustrated,  12mo,  Muslin,  $1,00. 


Phillips,  Sampson  §  Company's  Publications. 

Advice  to  Young  Ladies 

OX   THEIR 

DUTIES  AND  CONDUCT  IN  LIFE. 

BY    T.    S.    ARTHUR. 

Right  modes  of  thinking  are  the  basis  of  all  correct  action.  It  is  from 
this  cause  that  we  shall,  in  addressing  our  young  friends  on  their  duties  and 
conduct  in  life,  appeal  at  once  to  their  rational  faculty.  To  learn  to  think 
right  is,  therefore,  a  matter  of  primary  concern.  If  there  be  right  modes 
of  thinking,  right  actions  will  follow  as  a  natural  consequence.  —  Extract 
from  the  Author's  Introduction.  Price  75  Cents. 


Advice  to  Young  Men 

OX   THEIR 

DUTIES  AND  CONDUCT  IN  LIFE. 

BY    T.    S.    ARTHUR. 

The  aim  of  the  author  of  this  volume  has  been  to  lead  young  men  to  just 
conclusions,  from  reflections  upon  wlmt  they  are,  and  what  are  their  duties 
in  society,  as  integral  parts  of  the  common  body.  Satisfied  that  those  who 
read  it  as  it  should  be  read  cannot  fail  to  have  their  good  purposes  strength 
ened,  and  their  minds  elevated  into  sounder  views  of  life  than  usually  pre 
vail,  the  writer  dismisses  it  from  his  hands,  and  turns  to  other  matters  de 
manding  his  attention.  —Author's  Preface.  Price  75  Cents 


The  Young  Lady's  Offering; 

OR,  GEMS  OF  PROSE  AND  POETRY. 

The  above  is  prepared  especially  as  a  gift  book  for  young  ImUes,  embracing 
a  choice  arrangement  of  prose  and  poetic  combination,  adapting  it  particu 
larly,  as  its  title  indicates,  as  an  acceptable  ofi'ering  to  young  ladies.  Price 
$1,00. 


The  Young  Man's  Offering; 

COMPRISING 

PROSE  AND  POETICAL  WRITINGS 

OF  THE  MOST  EMINENT  AUTHORS. 

This  work  is  intended  to  be,  as  its  title  indicates,  a  useful  and  entertain 
ing  companion  to  young  men,  which  may  cheei  them  in  hours  of  languor  and 
of  sickness,  and  when  the  mind,  exhausted  by  its  efforts,  seeks,  in  amuse 
ment,  for  the  restoration  of  its  wonted  powers.  Illustrated  with  numerous 
engravings.  Price  $1,00. 


Phillips,  Sampson  f$  Company's  Publications. 


MUSIC  BOOKS. 


White's  Church   Melodist. 

tion  of  Psalm  and  Hymn  Tunes,  adapt 
Schools,  &.c.  15y  Edward  L.  White,  Ei 
jlodeon,"  "Sacred  Chorus  Uook,"  &.e. 


A  new  Collection  of  Psalm  and  Hymn  Tunes,  adapted  to  the  wants  of 
Choirs,  Singing  Schools,  &c.  1>\  Edward  L.  \Yhite.  Editor  of  "  The  Mod 
ern  Harp,"  "Me1  ' 


American    Collection ; 

OR,   SONGS   OF  SACRED  PRAISE. 

BY    EDWARD    HAMILTON,    ESQ. 

The  greater  portion  of  the  music  in  this  hook  is  entirely  new,  and  of  a 
very  high  order ;  and  Choirs  will  find  it.  a  rich  accession  to  their  musical 
libraries. 


Congregational  Singing  Book  ; 

OR,  VESTRY   COMPANION. 

The  music  in  this  hook  is  composed  entirely  of  old  choice  standard  tunes-, 
such  as  will  he  familiar  to  all.  They  were  carefully  collected  and  edited 
by  Asa  Fitz,  Esq. 


Common  School  Song  Book. 

This  will  bo  found  to  contain  a  very  choice  collection  of  simple,  and  for 
the  most  part,  familiar  airs,  beautifully  adapted  to  the  wants  of  Juvenile 
Choirs,  the  Private  Circle,  or  the  School  Room.  Edited  by  Asa  Fitz,  Esq. 


Sabbath  School  Minstrel. 

This  little  volume  is  especially  adapted,  in  its  Music  and  Hymns,  to  the 
service  of  the  Sabbath  School.  It  has  been  much  a  linired  wherever  it  has 
been  used.  Kdited  by  Asa  Fit/,  Esq. 


Greek  Course  of  Studies. 

Crosby's  Grammar  of  the   Greek  Language. 

Cro.ihy'g  Xcnophori1  a  rfnaba.iid. 

Crosby's  Greek  Lessons  ;  consisting  of  selections  from  Xenophon's  Anab 
asis  with  directions  for  tbe  study  of  the  Grammar,  Notes,  Exercises  in 
Translations  from  English  into  Greek,  and  a  Vocabulary.  The  above  are 
already  in  very  extensive  nan  in  the  collets  and  classical  schools,  and  are 
very  highly  recommended. 


Phillips,  Sampson  §  Company's  Publications. 

LIBRARY    EDITION 

STANDARD  POETICAL   WORKS. 


IN  UNIFORM  STYLE. 


TUPPER'S  POETICAL  WORKS;  embracing  Proverbial 
Philosophy,  Thousand  Lines,  Geraldine,  Hactenus,  and  Miscel 
laneous  Poems.  Complete  in  1  vol.,  12mo,  muslin,  fine  portrait, 
Price  #1,00. 

COWPER'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ;  with  Life ;  a  new  edi 
tion,  1  vol.,  12mo,  with  portrait.  Price  #1,00. 

POPE'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ;  new  edition,  containing  a 
Life  of  the  Author.  Price  #1,00. 


BYRON'S  POETICAL  WORKS ;  with  a  Sketch  of  his  Life, 
in  1  vol.,  12mo,  and   embellished  with  a  portrait.     Price  #1,00. 


MOORE'S  POETICAL  WORKS;  an  entirely  new  edition,  in 
1  vol.,  with  portrait.     Price  #1,00. 


BURNS'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ;  embracing  a  Life  of  the  Au 
thor,  Glossary,  and  Notes.  A  new  edition,  1  vol.,  12mo,  with  fine 
portrait.  Price  #1,00. 

SCOTT'S  POETICAL  WORKS  :  with  a  Memoir  of  the  Au 
thor,  embellished  with  a  portrait.  Price  #1,00. 


LIFE,    GEMS,  AND  BEAUTIES  OF  SHAKSPEARE ;   all 

embraced  in  1    vol.,   12mo,  containing  six  fine  engravings     and 
portrait.     Price  #1,00. 

POETICAL  REMAINS  OF  HENRY  KIRKE  WHITE  ;  con 
taining  a  Memoir  of  the  Author,  with  an  introductory  chapter  on 
his  religious  and  poetical  development,  by  Rev.  John  Todd. 
Price  #1,00. 


Phillips^  Sampson  £$  Company's  Publications. 

LIBRARY    EDITION 

OF 

STANDARD  POETICAL  WORKS. 


IN  UNIFORM  STYLE. 


HEMANS'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ;  an  entire  new  edition,  in  1 
vol.,  and  illustrated  with  steel  engravings.     Price  $1,00. 


HOWITT,  COOK  AND  LANGDON'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ; 
a  new  edition,  1  vol.,  12mo,  neat  muslin.     Price  $1,00. 


MILTON  AND  YOUNG;  containing  Paradise  Lost,  and 
Young's  Night  Thoughts,  a  new  edition,  complete  in  1  vol.,  12tno, 
with  portrait.  Price  $1,00. 

CROLY'S  BRITISH  POETS  ;  combining  the  beauties  of  the 
British  Poets,  with  introductory  observations  by  Rev.  George 
Croly,  1  vol.,  embellished  with  fine  steel  engravings.  Price 
$1,00. 

THE  POEMS  OF  OSSIAN  ;  a  new  edition,  containing  ten 
steel  engravings,  and  printed  on  fine  paper,  1  vol.,  12mo.  Price 
$1,00. 

THOMSON  AND  POLLOK  ;  containing  the  Seasons,  by 
James  Thomson,  and  Course  of  Time,  by  Robert  Pollok,  com 
plete  iu  1  vol.,  12mo,  with  portrait.  Price  $1,00. 

WORDSWORTH'S  POETICAL  WORKS  ;  an  entirely  new 
edition,  from  plates  just  stereotyped,  complete  in  1  vol.,  12mo,  with 
portrait.  Price  $1,00. 

CAMPBELL'S  POETICAL  WORKS;  including  his  Pleas 
ures  of  Hope,  Theodoric,  and  Miscellaneous  Poems,  many  of 
which  are  not  contained  in  the  former  editions.  Complete  in  1 
vol.,  12mo,  with  portrait.  Price  $1,00. 

The  above  poetical  works  are  uniform  in  size  and  binding,  and 
are  sold  separately,  or  together.  Their  size  and  style  considered, 
they  are  the  cheapest  library  editions  of  the  same  authors  before 
the  American  public. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

4N  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

*WILL  IjE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
, THIS;  BOO K-%0^1  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
Wlttl*  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


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U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


